


spiderweb of lies

by pineneedlepants



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alan Deaton Being an Asshole, Alive Erica Reyes & Vernon Boyd, Alpha Derek Hale, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Beta Derek Hale, Dark Alan Deaton, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale's Past Consent Issues with Kate Argent, Domestic Fluff, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Good Peter Hale, Grotesque rituals, Hurt Derek Hale, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Monster of the Week, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles smokes when he's angry, because I always hurt Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-09-29 22:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineneedlepants/pseuds/pineneedlepants
Summary: Derek gets a chance to gain his alpha powers back. The only one throwing a wrench in those plans is Scott.--





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays!
> 
> As always, this piece of fiction is not for Scott fans. I have had a pretty troublesome holiday so far, and I've been rage writing this piece alongside my screwed sleep schedule. I'm finishing last touches on the second part, so I'll be posting that too when I get it done(so next year, haha). If you see any huge writing errors, please let me know! My brain is running on fumes, so beta reading my own work is pretty hard, pfft.
> 
> Thank you for all of your continued support! I hope that many of you will keep being fans and stay included in the fandom, even if tumblr is doing an incredibly harmful purge right now.
> 
> I love all of you! See you next year!

  


Derek discovers the scent trail accidentally. He’s veered off his routinely check up path to hunt down his marker stones that have disappeared from underneath one of his painted trees. The stones regularly shift in place as the curious forest animals are attracted to their glimmer. They’re full of potent magic though, thanks to his and Stiles’ group effort, and their continued formation is vital for the wards to work.

Still. He’s never gone quite as far after one, even though he finds the stone easily. Crows really like to hoard them, unless Derek leaves other shiny things in the forest for them to collect.

As he reaches up to a dangling tree branch to snatch the missing item, all scents around him suddenly disappear. Derek freezes, eyes slowly taking in his surroundings, his instincts perking up in alert.

There’s nothing out of ordinary. The animals are calm and content, the air around him serene. There is no foreboding feeling, no bloody corpses left as warning. It’s just all the scents. They’re gone.

Grabbing the stone, Derek takes full stock of the immediate forest, sniffing carefully. The smells of bark and moss and leaves and animals have vanished, leaving behind just a sense of brisk, freezing air. It’s familiar, oddly. Not in a way he remembers or knows why, just that he knows he’s had this phenomenon happen before.

He keeps his posture stiff and ready to bolt as he takes a few tentative steps back and forth. The cold air has a distinct trail to it, which leads him just twenty feet off his own territory, and into the wild, unclaimed part of the preserve. There, in a budless rosebush, rests an envelope, neatly tucked into a plastic pocket to protect it from the slight drizzle that has loomed over the town for a couple days.

 _Alpha Hale,_ the front of the envelope reads, in a beautiful old calligraphy. It sounds official.

With a frown, Derek slides the letter out, clawing it open. It’s short, and on point.

_‘’ Dear Alpha Hale,_

_The Gunilda clan requests a safe passage through your lands._

_We are willing to negotiate for a brief stay, under reasonable terms, and on unclaimed territory._

_We will await for your reply in a haste, as we are weary of our travel._

_Yours truly,_

_Alpha Friederike von Gunilda ‘’_

The tension in his body relaxes. He sighs, deep and tired, and looks up to the grey sky. It looks dark and gloom, like the plummeting feeling in Derek’s stomach. He knows now exactly what they’re dealing with. Looks like he’s going to have to have a conversation with the McCall pack.

 _Great_.

  


~*~

  


Stiles is already at his apartment when Derek reaches home. He’s slouching against the front door, his entire being soaked from head to toe. He looks the same as Derek feels. Wet, uncomfortable and fed up.

‘’Dude,’’ Stiles grumps, jumping up. ‘’Took you forever to get here. I’m so cold I can’t even feel my toes.’’

Derek frowns heavily. ‘’You have a key.’’

Stiles makes a face. ‘’Well, yeah, but I forgot it at the station when I caught dad getting off shift.’’

At Derek’s imploring look, Stiles explains, ‘’We went to get breakfast together. Dad gave me a lift here since you’re still working on my Jeep. But, as you can guess with my key-less self catching hypothermia for no good reason, right in the middle of the ride, I realized my pockets were empty. So. No key. No warm apartment to get into. Dad _did_ offer to drive back, but I refused since I figured you had my spare one, _and_ you’d be here in _less_ than thirty minutes. You dick.’’

Derek frowns even harder, something uncomfortable lodging in his chest. He _loves_ the Stilinski breakfast affair. It’s the most relaxed he can get when he dines with the two.

Snorting with a fond shake of his head, Stiles reaches for his backpack. ‘’Sorry,’’ he says, knowing exactly what Derek is thinking.  ‘’I would’ve called you and invited you with us, but I know you hate Wendy’s. With an odd and fierce passion that I can never even begin to understand. I _did_ , however, persuade dad to make a quick trip to the fresh food fair and grabbed you two beef enchiladas.’’

The pang disappears. Conceding his point, Derek fishes his keys and opens the front door to them, just as Stiles comes up with two folio wrapped tortillas. They smell exquisite to his nose, his stomach tight with gnawing hunger.

‘’Ta-dah!’’

Ushering the man inside, Derek manages to grab the goods before Stiles confidently trips on his own spare shoes he’s left haphazardly right in the middle of the entrance. Derek lets him gather himself up as he leaves the enchiladas on the kitchen table and goes to hunt down some towels and dry clothes.

Moments later when they’re both somewhat warmed up and no longer wet, they gather in the living room. Stiles has a habit of taking all of the space of Derek’s six person couch, which he thinks is fairly impressive, and the man flops down comfortably into the cushions, doing just so.

‘’So,’’ Stiles says, crawling on the sofa into a better position, ‘’Vampires, huh?’’

Derek nods gravelly, lifting the man’s feet up before situating himself under them. He offers him the envelope, now a little crumbled from the forty-five minute trek back, and starts eating as Stiles goes through the letter.

‘’They don’t seem to be evil,’’ Stiles says off-handedly. ‘’The magic of this gives off like.. Old vibes? I guess? Nothing I’ve ever been in contact with before.’’

Wiping his mouth a little, Derek hums, thoughtful. ‘’I’m not surprised. Vampires are mostly the same as werewolves. Keep to their own, let very few in on their secret. Their lifespans are much longer, though they are not eternal beings, despite what the popular media tries to feed you. There isn’t such thing as immortality.’’ He ponders for a moment, taking another bite. ‘’Vampires can pass off as humans, easily. They’re not tactile nor territorial like werewolves, and they blend in into the society easily, away from the mundane, as well as hunters. They have very few weaknesses, and take care of rogues of their own.’’

‘’Huh,’’ Stiles says, making mental notes. ‘’Okay. So what do they eat?’’

Derek wants to snort. Of course _that_ is his most pressing question. ‘’They live off on blood. My knowledge of them isn’t as vast, but it probably depends on the family whether or not they practice feeding off of humans, or animals. Either is just as fine.’’

‘’Can they eat regular food?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Derek answers. ‘’I’m not certain on the intricate facts of things, but as they drink their fill of blood, their systems go back online, so to speak, allowing them to digest foods and have a regular heartbeat, among other things.’’

Stiles grins. ‘’Like do the dicking.’’

‘’Like I said,’’ Derek says with a roll of his eyes, ‘’That, among other things. If a vampire feeds regularly, they pass as human even presented in front of a werewolf’s heightened senses.’’

‘’That’s pretty cool,’’ Stiles hums. ‘’Is there anything on the bestiary about them?’’

With a shrug, Derek continues his feast onto the next roll. They are really good, _much_ better than Wendy’s. ‘’Just the kind of hunter-based stereotypes that may or may not be true. You can read it with a grain of salt, just as you would read an entry of werewolves.‘’

‘’Well, to be fair, the hunters have tortured and experimented your kind a lot more than they have vampires, so their knowledge of your physical abilities are pretty accurate. I’ll keep fact checking a lot with you or other sources I’ll find.’’ Which means he’ll look into it, but won’t be expecting much.

‘’I can compile you some notes of what I remember of vampires in general, if you want.’’

‘’Thanks dude,’’ Stiles says. He heaves a huge, relieved sigh. ‘’It’s so much easier working with you than it is with trying to pry out information of Deaton or Lydia. You just go straight to the point, facts only.’’

Amused, Derek reaches for a couple pieces of paper towels to wipe his hands into. He hates working with Deaton, the man entirely too enigmatic for Derek’s patience. Lydia, on the other hand, still acts like Derek is beneath her. Like Peter’s actions are also part Derek’s fault, so she doesn’t seem to like being around him, nor Peter. Mostly Derek just stays quiet in her presence, letting everyone else grab her attention.

When his hands are relatively clean, he takes out his notebook. He needs to write a letter back to the Gunilda coven, return the gesture, as he has nothing else he can contact them with. They need to decide when and where to hold the meeting, and the duration of the coven’s stay. Seemingly friendly, the coven can turn out to be lethal if they don’t have their backs up. There’s no way to know how many of them are out there, and what are their needs, or possibly, ulterior motives.

He sighs. He’s going to have to consult Scott. Ever reluctant, it’ll be like pulling teeth to persuade the alpha to even attend. His pack will be even more difficult.

Boyd he knows will come with zero complaints, still stoically, quietly excited about the supernatural. The young man is still one of Derek’s best friends, apart from Stiles, and feels more like his beta than Scott’s, even if Derek isn’t an alpha anymore.

Isaac comes if Scott does. Erica, Lydia and Allison are always seesawing on the edge of ‘I don’t care’ and ‘why didn’t anyone tell me about this meeting?’. Erica and Lydia even more so. Allison is mostly the only one who regularly comes around, still feeling guilty of the things her family, she herself, has done to Derek and his ex-pack, but eager to make amends.

If she didn’t occasionally smell like Kate’s perfume, and have some of her aunt’s mannerisms, Derek thinks he could’ve grown to even like her some day. The violent flashbacks he’s sometimes drawn into by her presence though, has that chance diminishing the worse his attacks become.

And then there’s Stiles, of course. As McCall’s emissary, he’s bound by his magic to attend, as well as his duty, though mostly he comes because Derek does. The man usually has cliffnotes and a list of questions he likes to ask, looking up to Derek for guidance if he says or does something that makes things go awry, which Derek then settles as smoothly as he can.

Which is sometimes not smoothly at all.

It’s a learning curve.

‘’I’ll need to talk to Scott about this,’’ he says out loud.

Stiles hangs his head and makes a face. ‘’He’s on a date with Allison.’’

His brows furrowing deep, Derek says, ‘’This is more important.’’

Stiles guffaws. ‘’There is nothing more important to Scotty-boy than Allison. You should know this by now.’’

Derek rubs a hand over his face. He’s tired. Being a semi-packless omega with the responsibilities of an alpha, yet none of the perks, does its best to run him down. He could really use some tactile pack scenting to ease his nerves right now.

‘’If I get over there to interrupt his date and drag him here, do you think he’ll run me off the territory?’’

‘’Nah,’’ Stiles says, abandoning his sprawled position in order to tuck himself right next to Derek, much to his surprise. ‘’Gimme your phone. We can call him together. He probably won’t even answer, since they have a strict no-phones policy when they’re on a date. But at least this way you can tell him that you _tried_ to reach out to him, and then just do whatever means necessary to keep him out of it. Go meet the coven with me and smooth things over later.’’

Derek looks at him with a quirked eyebrow. ‘’You don’t really want him in the meeting.’’

‘’Nope,’’ Stiles responds, tap-tap-tapping Derek’s phone. He leans closer, their sides warm and flushed together. ‘’Scott has the diplomatic bone of a gnat. He’s oblivious to most social cues, as you’ve probably noticed, and will most likely offend anyone crossing his path.’’

The device rings and rings and rings, until it goes to voicemail.

‘’Yes!’’ Stiles fistpumps. ‘’Let me compose a quick text to him, so he knows, sort of, what’s going on, and then we can just go welcome alpha Gunilda together.’’

‘’As much as that would make things easier,’’ Derek concedes easily, humoured, ‘’We need the pack to be there to show unity. And the letter requested the Hale alpha. In case you haven’t forgotten, I’m not an alpha anymore.’’

That makes the man pause. ‘’You think they’d be offended if Scott didn’t attend?’’

Thinking his words carefully, he says slowly, ‘’I think they might take it as a sign that we think them weak and not as a prospective enemy. They may not attack based on that sort of offense, but it would certainly start the meeting off the wrong foot.’’

‘’Dang it,’’ Stiles sighs. ‘’Well. Let’s just organize the whole thing for now, and then just inform Scott, like, an hour before and just do what you said and drag him there. That way we can work in peace and still have our alpha attend a meeting he has no wish to be a part of.’’

Derek shrugs. Whatever works.

He pulls his computer from underneath the niche of the coffee table and lights it up. It’s going to take them the whole night to work through the plan.

‘’Okay, so, we’re going to need to think of a cozy, but secluded place we can all fit comfortably in, and then maybe think of some sort of fighting plan if things go awry,’’ Stiles says, rubbing his hands together as he sticks close to Derek, leaning in to use the keyboard with him. ‘’Should we think of offering things to eat? Or _oh_ , would that possibly offend them?’’

Derek can’t hold back the snort. Stiles still has a lot to learn.

  


~*~

  


Derek decides to hold the meeting inside of one the old factory halls he owns. The building used to be a playground for the kids back in the days, the memories of some of their most rambunctious full moons in there engraved to his heart. It’s where Peter taught the smaller kids to swear in spanish, where his father once dropped from the ladder near the ceiling, breaking his back and freaking everyone out for the duration of the three days it took him to heal fully.

The place needed some dusting and cleaning, but the furniture and electronics inside are still functional and cozy. It makes his chest ache fiercely, heart thudding heavily with grief.

He wishes Peter was here. He’d tried contacting his uncle in hopes of getting a hold of him, to have him be there with the rest of them, but in vain. His calls and texts seem to be disappearing into a void. It’s been awhile since anyone’s seen him.

‘’Holy crap, this place looks amazing!’’ Erica says as the pack enters, taking in the room. The factory used to be a small one, but the ceiling is high as anything and the entire building only has one large room apart from four bathrooms and the control room. It’s been long since its closing and its conversion to suit the Hale pack outings, but small tidbits still remain, like the lingering smell of woodwork that Derek thinks won’t ever fully disappear.

Now there are couches and beanbags, a couple tables and three large mattresses put together. Once upon a time it needed to hold eighteen people, with plush pillows and thick blankets and the smell of _packhomelovefamily_. He hasn’t had the heart to throw it away, not when he still gets whisks of familiar scents whafting off of it, or at least he thinks he does.

Sometimes his nose works like a phantom limb, thinking he smells scents that have long since ceased to exist in his life. During the small hours of the night, he thinks whether or not the small fractions of love he holds for a few people in his life are just like that, a phantom, forgotten feeling that he thinks is there, but in reality, isn’t.

‘’It is, isn’t it?’’ Stiles grins, welcoming them in.

There’s a feast laid on upon the tables, the two refrigerators still working after Derek tinkered with them a little. Him and Stiles decided on a regular pack feast with grilled meats and vegetables. For their guests, Derek has freshly caught two huge deers that rest upon a tarp on one of the larger tables.

‘’How did you come up with this place?’’ Isaac asks, claiming one of the beanbags. Allison follows him suit, seemingly unarmed. Derek knows better.

‘’It used to be Derek’s family’s. We went through some stuff a year back and found this little gem in his financial records,’’ Stiles says, grabbing Derek into a half tuck-half hug, his arm around his shoulders. ‘’Since the coven seems pretty friendly, we decided to respond in kind.’’

‘’If there’s free food, I’m game,’’ Erica laughs. There’s a collective agreement on that.

Scott’s the last one to come in, his expression confused concern. ‘’Is this place safe?’’ he asks, his eyes glowing crimson as he takes in the slightly rusted iron walls. ‘’We have never been here before, so if, if things get bad.. Do we know how to get out of here?’’

Stiles rolls his eyes, hiding his face into Derek’s shoulder with a painful groan. ‘’Scotty-boy, we linked you the emergency exits and the safety plan. Everyone got them.’’

‘’What emergency plans?’’ Scott asks.

‘’Get your head in the game, McCall,’’ Jackson says, put upon. ‘’Seriously. This is why you were never the lacrosse captain. You get the plan, you read it, and you act accordingly. It isn’t that hard.’’

‘’Dude,’’ Stiles sighs, looking up at the alpha tiredly. ‘’You didn’t read the emails I sent you? I even named them ‘important stuff for alpha’ in capital letters.’’

Scott grins sheepishly. ‘’I was with Allison.’’

‘’Hey,’’ Allison interjects with a dimpled smile. ‘’I had time to read them. Don’t blame me for this.’’

‘’Well,’’ Stiles says, banging his head gently against Derek, ‘’If worse comes to worse, just follow everyone else.’’

There’s a crack from outside, which Derek hones his hearing into. He can’t hear any heartbeats, which means the vampires haven’t fed in a long while, but they’re keeping their steps purposefully heavy in order to signal their arrival. ‘’They’re here,’’ he informs everyone else, which makes them all quiet down.

They stand up to greet their guests, not in any particular formation but just right enough aligned so that their statuses in the pack are revealed. Stiles extracts himself from Derek and swiftly joins his alpha. Scott, the last one to come in, stands in the front, with Stiles inches apart from his back.

The coven, as they step in, is twenty people strong. They look like a family, with a bulky alpha female as their leader, the rest falling easily into protective circle of not their alpha, but their two children that cannot be more than five years old. Derek sympathises with them, forced to be on the run with tiny cubs still trying to grow and adapt with no solid ground to call their own.

‘’Alpha Hale,’’ the woman, Friederike, Derek assumes, greets them with a heavy german accent. ‘’I am Alpha Friederike von Gunilda. This is my family. Thank you for giving us your time in such short notice.’’

‘’No problem,’’ Scott replies easily, smiling. He offers them his hand. ‘’I’m the alpha, Scott McCall, and this is my pack. We - ‘’

Friederike walks calmly past Scott, barely giving him and his handshake a glance. Instead, she comes to stand in front of Derek, her eyes blazing red. Derek almost takes a step back in confusion, but stands his ground. She bares her neck, just an inch, and it prompts Derek to instinctually offer her the proper response back. He briefly flashes his beta blue eyes and gives her his wrist close to her mouth to inhale his scent. She does, a shudder wracking her frame with the siren’s call of Derek’s blood. She grips his hand gently, keeping it in place.

‘’Uh. Hello?’’ Scott says faintly from somewhere behind her.

‘’Beta McCall, you may stand down,’’ she says firmly, despite the alpha’s obvious bristling. Her eyes bore into Derek’s, letting his hand go. ‘’I am aware of your unique circumstances, and wish to speak with alpha Hale. Your duty is done.’’

Derek sees Stiles cock his head curiously in the background. ‘ _What duty?’_ the man mouths silently. Derek shakes his head minimally, having no idea.

‘’Uh, I, um, what?’’ Scott asks, looking just as confused as everyone else in the room. His brows furrow and twitch as he asks, ‘’What duty? What are you talking about?’’

Friederike takes a step back, her eyes fading back to a deep, earthy brown. She huffs, turning just so she doesn’t show Derek her back, but is able to talk to Scott. ‘’I do not like to beat around the bush. We aren’t here to negotiate with the stand-in alpha. We are looking for safe passage, not a territory war. We aren’t an enemy of anyone. Alpha Hale may be vulnerable in his state, but we are only to find our way securely through town. Nothing else.’’

A collective silence descends the room. Blinking in bafflement, Derek takes a couple deep breaths, scenting the emotions of Friederike. She seems calm, if tired, a little miffed.

Scott, confused and slightly upset at not being addressed as the alpha, stomps to Derek’s side and pushes himself into their personal space. He huffs and puffs his chest, barely resisting of glaring at alpha Gunilda. The act forces Derek to take a couple steps away from him. The wolf’s tone is perplexed, though still civil. He’s trying to play the act of an intimidating alpha,  no doubt having listened Deaton’s guidance on how to meet a vampire clan before arriving. The dumbass. ‘’I think there’s uh, some sort of misunderstanding? Derek’s not an alpha. See? His eyes are blue. I’m the true alpha you uh, might have heard about? I’m, sort of, the leader of Beacon Hills. Pack. Not, um, the town. Obviously.’’

The vampire looks the alpha up and down, her eyebrow quirked up. Derek can sense the disappointed judgement wafting off of her. ‘’I am not one to repeat myself twice, young wolf. You are not alpha Hale. I will discuss nothing with you.’’

Scott furrows his brows. ‘’But. I just said? There _is_  no alpha Hale here. Peter’s _dead_ and Derek’s an omega. I’m the only alpha here left, and the territory is mine.’’

 _Dead_? Derek thinks, a little shocked. He knows Peter is most definitely not dead. Just elusive and content to keep away, but certainly still in the land of the living. Derek can feel his bond, strained but solid. Alive.

As if realizing that her audience is not actually understanding what she’s so subtly implying, Friederike pauses, assessing. She shares a couple looks with the members of her coven before turning to Derek.

’’You are alpha Hale, am I correct?’’

”I’m not an alpha, alpha von Gunilda,” Derek says patiently. He lets his eyes flare blue again. ”I’m an omega.”

She frowns. ”That is not right,” she says. ”That does not sound right at all.” With a glance at Scott, she points at him and asks Derek, ”Wolf McCall is a true alpha, yes?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Derek grits out. She doesn’t have to rub it in his _face_.

She looks at him, long and contemplative. There must be something in his demeanor that reveals more than Derek wants to show. She nods to herself, slowly, before she enquiers,‘’How old are you, alpha Hale?’’

Scott growls, pushing Derek further behind him. Derek wants to roll his eyes, but easily complies by taking a couple steps back. Scott faces the vampire with a smile that looks more like he’s baring his teeth to her and says, ‘’Like I said, I’m not a Hale, I’m a _McCall_. And I’m twenty-’’

‘’I didn’t ask you, beta McCall,’’ Friederike silences him sharply. ‘’I asked your _alpha_.’’

‘’But Derek’s _not an alpha_ ,’’ Scott insists in frustration, his sideburns descending. The hands resting on his crossed arms have claws sprouting out.

Derek thinks quickly. He’ll need to intervene soon, before Scott’s loss of control is taken as a bad sign. His eyes slide quickly to lock with Stiles’. There’s something odd going on here. Stiles’ eyes are wide, his face just a huge question mark. Derek’s not faring much better, though he answers steadily, his gaze sliding back to the vampire. ‘’I’m twenty five years old, ma’am.’’

She nods, as if she guessed so. ‘’A young little thing then. I have heard of the tragedy of your family, and I am sorry for it.’’

Stiles slides up to Derek, his hand supporting the low of his back. He guides both of them back to the vampire, making Scott relinquish his place momentarily. ‘’Alpha von Gunilda,’’ he intervenes smoothly, showing her his wrist, ‘’Emissary Stiles Stilinski at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She takes the human’s offer and touches lightly the skin of his inner wrists, where the veins are most prominent. ‘’Spark,’’ she says, licking her lips. ‘’A powerful one.’’

Stiles doesn’t even blink as he delves straight into it,‘’Oh, yeah, I know what I am. I’m more interested in Scotty boy right now. You insist to speak to alpha Hale instead of our true leader here. What’s this thing you said, a, a stand-in alpha? What’s all that about?’’

She looks a bit surprised. She releases his hand. ”You are truly unaware, then?”

Stiles cocks his head. ‘’About what?’’

‘’About the truth of the true alpha status your friend has claimed for himself.’’

Stiles blinks. Makes a seesaw gesture. ”Uh, yes and no? The long answer is complicated. Short answer is that our source of information is either a cryptic druid or the shaky childhood memories of Derek here, so we don’t really have anything concrete to rely on. Just, old tales and bedtime stories. The like. We know he rose to alpha status by sheer force of will by his purity of soul or whatever.”

She sighs. ‘’I see. That is not quite correct but I will explain, since you seem to be at a loss. May we sit down though? We are weary, and hungry, and rather short tempered.’’

‘’Of course,’’ Stiles nods and gestures her and her company to sit anywhere they’d like. ‘’We have, uh, regular food right over there with grilled steaks and stuff. And on that tarp there is um, a couple deer that Derek just hunted for you. Fresh. We weren’t sure what you would like to eat, since we haven’t met vampires before.’’

Friederike inhales, her canines lengthening. ‘’Yes. Yes, thank you. That is not enough to feed us all, but if you’d like, while I tell you the things you want to hear, a couple of your wolves and my sisters could go hunt us a couple more bucks.’’

Erica bounces up gleefully. ‘’I can go.’’

‘’If she goes, I’ll come along,’’ Isaac says quietly. When Scott looks at him, bewildered, the man shrugs. ‘’To keep her in check. It’s almost full moon. She’ll be rather bloodthirsty.’’

Derek nods at him. ‘’Good call,’’ he says approvingly. ‘’Can you Jackson go give them some company?’’

Jackson purses his lips in annoyance, but complies easily. Derek is one of his only confidants these days, of things he wishes not to speak with anyone else, so doing as the man says is second nature to him. The guidance Derek has given him is priceless, and Jackson knows exactly how to repay that.

‘’Thank you,’’ Derek says, reaching to squeeze Jackson’s neck as he passes by. ‘’Keep an eye on them.’’

‘’Yeah, yeah, whatever,’’ Jackson shrugs, but he seems pleased at the trust.

‘’Scott?’’ Derek asks, making the alpha glare in his direction. ‘’Are you planning to go with everyone else, or are you staying?’’

‘’I’m the alpha,’’ Scott declares. ‘’I need to be here for the meeting.’’

Stiles pokes at his friend. ‘’Honestly dude, you really should go. As your emissary, it’s my duty to uphold your narrative when you’re out there making sure your pu- er, _friends_ , are safe. We won’t discuss anything regarding the coven or their stay while you’re at it. I’d go, but I’m a lowly human, and I can barely keep up with you on a good day. This day is not one of those.’’ He gestures to his aching ankle which he strained a couple weeks ago. He then lowers his voice to a barely-there whisper. ‘’Besides. It’s a show of strength that you’re able to leave half of your pack here without the alpha present. And you’d be providing the visitors a gift of a hunt. Trust me. It’s gonna help us later on if we show them right away we’re not afraid of them.’’

Scott glares at Stiles, shaking his head. He doesn’t whisper. ‘’I don’t trust anyone here to keep Allison safe.’’

‘’Then take her with you,’’ Stiles says, exasperated. ‘’She’ll be thrilled to join. Won’t you Ally?’’

‘’Absolutely!’’ She says, joining Erica. ‘’A little exercise is good for anyone.’’

‘’Great! It’s decided then. Off you go, Scotty boy. Wrangle your betas into line and bring us the biggest buck you can find. We can talk important matters after dinner, when everyone is in high spirits and not hungry.’’

With great difficulty, Allison manages to coax Scott to join them. He does not look thrilled about it though. The wolves and vampires leave in a big group towards the wilder part of the preserve, leaving the rest of them to relax. They seat themselves around the factory, the two little children running towards the small play nook with old, worn puzzles and board games. Derek steers Stiles to sit with him in one of the bigger beanbags, pushing them flush against each other.

The vampire alpha sits near to them, seating herself in one of the sofas.

‘’Drinks?’’ Boyd asks, and offers a bunch of sodas and water bottles to go around. Derek takes one of the water bottles, sharing it with Stiles.

‘’So,’’ Stiles claps his hands together. ‘’I’ve got my notebook and my bestiary. Lay it on me.’’

Derek buries his face in his hands. Leave it to Stiles to awkwardly and unprofessionally break the ice. Gunilda seems amused, though.

‘’Eager, aren’t we?’’ she shakes her head. ‘’Being greedy for information is a good thing, but beware young spark. There are things in this world that you do not want to venture into, and lose your bright path. You are capable of many great things.’’

With more sobriety that Derek has seen Stiles to be capable of, the man nods. ‘’I know my limits. At least, partially. Derek’s here to call me out on my shit though, if I suddenly become too power hungry. Never say never and all that jazz.’’

‘’Good,’’ Friederike says sagely. ‘’Being cautious will help you a lot more than you realize. Now, I believe I want to hear more details of your story if I’m about to explain things further. Tell me alpha Hale, how did you come to lose your spark? And how long ago was that.’’

Sharing a look with Stiles, he tilts his head and furrows his brows a little. Stiles narrows his eyes with pursed lips, and he nods slightly, before doing a seesaw gesture.

With a shrug, Derek turns to the vaguely amused looking alpha. ‘’I transferred my alpha spark to my sister in order to keep her alive.’’

Stiles rolls his eyes and elbows him gently on the ribs. ‘’ Oh my god, dude, you can’t just - That was the shortest way _ever_ to explain this. She said more _detailed_ explanation,’’ he says exasperatedly. ‘’What the ever eloquent Derek here means is that, about a few years ago when we found out that Cora, Derek’s sister from his decimated pack, was even alive, an alpha pack had descended into town. You know, Deucalion and his merry gang of alphas.’’

‘’I know of Deucalion, yes, unfortunately. Steered away from him when possible. His new pack of alphas perished, but I heard he was left alive?’’

Stiles winces. ‘’Yeah, that. That was not so great planning on Scott’s part. I’m pretty sure Deuc’s still wreaking havoc somewhere, but I made sure he’s  never going to touch the soil of this town again. But yeah, he’s unfortunately still alive and kicking.’’

‘’Do not worry, young spark,’’ Friederike reassures him, ‘’Not all evils are yours to burden yourself with. If you focus on keeping your pack safe, then it is all that matters. Alone, he is not a match to anyone, let alone my family. If he crosses paths with me, I will serve him the punishment of death he deserved all those years ago.’’

Stiles flaps his hand to wave her concerns away. ‘’Cool. Deucalion’s definitely having it coming with all the shit he’s done. But Deucalion’s not the point, or the main point anyway. There was a lot of bloodshed and shit going around back then with the alpha’s lurking around with their death threats and maiming, and things were generally pretty horrible. But finding Cora? Was a pretty damn great thing. But Deucalion was hell bent on getting Derek to join his murder gang, which he obviously didn't want to do, so they resulted into trying to kill everyone Derek loved. Finding out Cora was dying, Derek promised her he’d do anything to keep her alive. So he believed strongly enough, willing his spark to heal Cora, which it did. He lost his alpha powers the second she regained her heartbeat, and even momentarily lost his wolf altogether. He was basically like a human for awhile.’’

Friederike nods attentively. ‘’So he sacrificed his wolf to save his sister, reducing him to his basic being without magic. Was this spark an in-family power?’’

‘’Uh, yeah. He got it from his uncle Peter. Who got it, uh, from his niece, Derek’s sister. Laura.’’

‘’Mm-hm, I see. And when you lost your alpha spark, did beta McCall mysteriously gain his True Alpha status after this certain incident?’’

Stiles opens his mouth, stops, and thinks for a moment. ‘’Huh. Uh. Yes?’’ He looks to Derek for confirmation.

‘’Yes. He did rise in power after I lost mine,’’ Derek says.

‘’As I would have thought. Was beta McCall your second?’’

Derek shakes his head. ‘’Scott refused to be in my pack at all. Boyd,’’ he looks over to his friend, ‘’is- _was_ my second. Or at least he would’ve been, if I had been in a place where I could’ve admitted it. Those times are a little. . .  Fuzzy, still. It all blurs together.’’

‘’Oh.’’

‘’Oh, what do you mean _oh_? Oh is not a good way to respond to something,’’ Stiles says with narrowed eyes. His hand sneaks to Derek’s knee and squeezes.

Friederike frowns, calculative. ‘’I’m. . . Not quite sure what happened with you. I - I wonder. . .’’

Gently, Derek lays his palm over Stiles’ hand. It stills the man’s wiggling leg as he relaxes slightly.

‘’Let me start with the simple part,’’ she starts slowly. ‘’The true alpha legend, as you’ve heard it, is just a big hoax. Usually, when there are rumours of an alpha rising to power by a sheer force of will, there is something much bigger going on in the background. Much like in your case, usually the alpha spark is either too drained or too damaged to stay intact. It needs to heal. It is what I sense in you, alpha Hale. Your spark is still small and broken, but healing. To me, it feels like the beginning stages of your alpha spark returning, but if this state of yours has gone on for more than a few years, there might be something blocking your magic. Regardless, if an alpha loses his or her power for an indefinite amount of time, the remaining fraction of those powers usually transfer to an alpha’s most trusted person, their second in hand. That should have been, in this case, your beta, Boyd.’’

She shifts in place, taking a sip of her soda. ‘’If that fraction of your alpha power had gone to Boyd, it would have enabled him to be a pretend alpha, sort of. A placebo, if you will. He would have had the ability to flash his eyes crimson, as well as have a stronger feel of the pack bonds. Nothing else. The power isn’t truly changing owners, just delegating its duty to everyone else in order to protect them from surrounding wolves from any attacks. A leaderless pack is easier to dismantle and scatter than a united, strong pack with an alpha.’’

Stiles taps his fingers restlessly against the bottle. He nods eagerly. ‘’That’s. Pretty smart. Huh. No wonder that sort of thing is only seen once in a hundred years. Not very many people would voluntarily give up such power.’’

‘’Yes. It’s very rare for an alpha to lose his spark entirely, and when it does happen, it’s mostly kept a very possessively held secret.’’

Stiles agrees. ‘’Yeah, no kidding. We’ve had enough problems _with_ an alpha, I can’t even begin to imagine how many assholes would come running to dismantle us _without_ an alpha.’’ He sighs. ‘’ So how long does it take to heal the spark?’’

‘’There are only a very few recorded true alphas in the world, but what I have gathered. . . Up to six months seem to be the limit. After that the powers should have restored, even if the alpha is packless. The bigger your family, the easier and faster the healing will happen. Such pack as yours should have been able to help you heal up in less than two weeks.’’

Sucking in a breath, Stiles look up to Derek in concern. ‘’Then why hasn’t Derek regained his powers then yet? Is it because Scott’s still an alpha?’’

‘’I have no certain answer for you, Emissary Stilinski. There must have been a many great powers at work at the time of your happenstance. Someone with enough magic could have tampered with the exchange, but they must have been someone close to you for that to happen without anyone realizing. It’s a very risky move to do. For beta McCall to continue to be an  alpha, with powers that come with that mantle, he must be draining your magic continuously. It’s a grueling process not only to you, alpha Hale, but to the person keeping it up for all these years.’’

Derek’s mind immediately jump to Deaton. The man has had Scott’s best intentions in mind since the very beginning, regardless of what happens to everyone else. The druid is also the only person apart from Stiles that can use magic freely, and someone who has knowledge of such things. Deaton had always shown affection towards Scott as he scorned and belittled Derek in the same breath. An occam’s razor.

‘’Deaton,’’ Stiles spits, his thoughts the exact mirror of Derek’s. ‘’It must be him, right? There are no other magic users in the area, apart from me. Not anyone close to the pack, at least.’’

‘’And this Deaton?’’

‘’A druid,’’ Derek says. ‘’He was my mother’s former emissary. Alan Deaton.’’

‘’The name does ring a bell,’’ Gunilda says thoughtfully. ‘’I will have to consult my wife to make sure, but. . . A druid, yes. It would be easy for him to manipulate the energy around him. Since his own innate magic is very nil, he uses the natural powers of our everyday energies to his advantage. It wouldn’t drain him as much to keep it up, either, since it wouldn’t be his own magic at cost.’’

‘’So what do we have to do to get Derek’s powers back?’’ Stiles asks.

‘’That depends on whether or not the druid is truly blocking alpha Hale’s healing,’’ Gunilda replies. ‘’You’ll need to find the source of the blockage, and once found, purify alpha Hale’s magic with a healing ritual. You will need a powerful emissary ready to sacrifice a part of their magic to kickstart the spell and force the alpha spark to leave beta McCall, transferring it to you. It might be, however, detrimental to you, alpha Hale, since your inherent magic is still shredded. The alpha powers entering your body might help you to heal faster, or momentarily bring you to death’s door, depending on in how bad condition your spark is.’’

Stiles looks contemplating. Derek catalogs his expression before dropping his gaze to his lap, studying his hands.

The thing is. He does want the alpha powers back. He wants these bonds he has to strengthen to the way they were before, to have his pack be his again. He yearns for it, for the tight knit feeling he gets as his betas surround him, is desperate to feel unconditionally safe in the presence of his friends.

But he knows, he _knows_ the others have enjoyed Scott being an alpha. Scott does not have a leading bone in his body, nor a diplomatic one, and he lets the pack do whatever they want. There have been no training of the betas, no full moon celebrations, no commands to do what Scott wants them to do. At times, the betas look and feel like they are drifting, unanchored. An alpha should make his betas feel wanted, and needed, to guide them in the best direction when they seem at a loss.

Scott’s approach to alpha hood is more like Stiles’ high school attitude. Ignore the problem, until it goes away. Which, with the betas lack of control, does in fact, not go away, but is pushed into Derek’s hands when he wrangles the wayward aggressive wolves into line. Especially Liam, who had anger management problems already _before_ turning to a slave of the moon.

The only people willing to join Derek’s weekly training is Boyd and Stiles, and unsurprising exactly no-one, they have the best control of their peers.

If Derek were now the one to reclaim his mantle as the alpha, he knows for certain that not everyone will take the power shift with ease. His own ex-betas might join without any preamble, but the newest recruits Scott’s bitten are an entirely different story. The high schoolers the worst of the bunch.

‘’Would the magic the emissary has sacrificed be returned to him in time?’’ Stiles asks somberly.

Gunilda purses her lips. ‘’That I do not know, dear. Our nature stays healthy when in balance, so I would assume that, yes, in time the emissary might be able to gain back some of what they’ve lost. It is a _sacrifice_ , however, so I would take it as such and not hope for a swift return of the lost magic.’’

‘’I see,’’ he responds quietly.

Derek squeezes his hand. ‘’If. . . If I were to get my alpha spark back, it would mean that Scott would drop back down to a beta, wouldn’t it?’’

‘’Yes, that is exactly so. It is the life of a wolf, no status is guaranteed. We all circle through shifts in the power structures of our lives.’’

There’s a momentary collective silence as they mull the information over. There are many obstacles in performing any of it, the biggest being Scott’s loss of his alpha status, and the ugly face of the real scheming Deaton.

‘’My biggest concern is Deaton,’’ Stiles says. ‘’What did he gain from this? What use to him Scott is as an alpha? There must’ve been a very good reason for him to keep the ruse up for such a long time.’’

Derek nods in agreement. ‘’He doesn’t do anything that doesn’t benefit him directly or indirectly.’’

‘’Right. So why make Scott an alpha in the first place?’’

Shrugging, Derek lifts his head. ‘’The only way to know is to ask.’’

Stiles doesn’t manage to respond before the metal doors bang open and the hunting party tumbles in. Erica and Isaac are laughing, dragging a huge deer inside. Isaac has leaves in his hair and bloodied arms. Erica isn’t faring much better. The vampires are also in similar states, each carrying a price of their hunt.

‘’Holy crap, they went all out,’’ Stiles mutters as he rises up in time with everyone else. There are five poor deer that have found their demise, and two big cougars that the vampires reassure did not have any offspring left behind.

The conversation is put on hold as everyone turns to feast. It takes a long time before everyone is satisfied and full, the moon slowly starting its ascend to the sky.

The clan is travelling in caravan cars, and most of them retire for the night sometime after nine o’clock. Derek dares to ask for the reason of their approach by letter left in the preserve, which Gunilda responds to that Derek’s number and personal information is hidden, and therefore she had no phone number nor mailbox to contact him with. He concedes her point with slight embarrassment.

In the end, the only people left are Derek and Stiles, with Boyd and Scott and Allison by their side. Gunilda and her wife are seated on the sofa with their enforcer, but the rest of them go home to prepare for their morrow’s duties.

At one point during the dinner, Stiles had taken Derek outside for a moment and offered to talk to Scott about the entire thing. Even if there has been some disagreements and animosity between the two of them in the past, they’re still brothers, and Scott will trust Stiles’ word more than he would Derek’s. Because even if Scott has hardly used his mantle as an alpha to actually lead his pack, he will still feel the loss of it when the powers leave him. Derek’s glad that Stiles has promised to take that burden off of him. There is no way Scott would say yes if Derek asks.

But as often as things go with Scott, the explanation is far from easy.

‘’I don’t know what to say Stiles. I don’t think Deaton would do such thing,’’ Scott frowns. ‘’He’s helped us out since the beginning, he’s a good man.’’

Stiles blows a raspberry. ‘’You do realize that his. . . ‘Help’ has always been rather vague, and oftentimes, misleading? Like, for example, you say that he’s been helping us out since the beginning, but you do know that Deaton knew what you were right away when you first visited him after you were turned, but refused to acknowledge this and didn’t tell you but after we had figured it out ourselves?’’

Scott scratches his cheek absently. ‘’It’s not like Deaton could just tell me, you know? He had no idea how I would react to such thing. I was like, super freaking strong and not really in control, so it’s not like he could’ve defended himself if I had reacted to the news badly.’’

‘’Oh, he has all the ways to protect himself from angry werewolves,’’ Stiles says. ‘’He used to be Talia’s emissary, remember? Deaton isn’t clueless, he’s got all the wards set up in his clinic and his home. You wouldn’t have been able to even blink before he would have had you subdued. His magic is strong, stronger than the Darach’s, because it’s not his own. The only reason Jennifer was able to even kidnap him was because he _let_ her. Otherwise he would’ve been untouchable.’’

Scott bristles. ‘’Why the hell would Deaton let Jennifer kidnap him? That doesn’t make any sense. He was _hurt_ , Stiles. He was just as much of a victim of hers like our parents were.’’

Stiles shakes his head. ‘’At any time of any point, Deaton would’ve been able to both free himself, and free our parents from Jennifer’s clutches. The only reason he didn’t is because he wanted to see how things would play out. He was curious to know what would happen if she was able to complete the five fold knot.’’

Scott relaxes. ‘’Well, you said it then,’’ he says easily. ‘’He needed to be in the same place as the Darach so that he would know what to do in the aftermath. If he could have freed himself and the others without problems, I’m certain he would’ve done it. And we’re all fine now, so it’s obvious Deaton’s plans worked.’’

Stiles stares at the alpha incredulously. There is no way Scott is this thickheaded. ‘’You - You realize that Isaac and Allison and Erica and Boyd almost _died_ ? _I_ almost died, our _parents_ almost died, _Derek_ almost died! And for what? For Deaton’s amusement? His active _inaction_ directly affected all of our healths. Deaton could have easily prevented Jennifer from ever stepping in Beacon Hills, you know that right? The alpha pack too. He could’ve easily put up wards around the town and the Nemeton to prevent things with malicious souls from entering, just like me and Derek have done in the past few years. If he had done _his job_ as the Hale Emissary, there’s no way any hunters had been able to set the fire without anyone noticing. There’s no way the entire Hale pack full of adults wouldn’t have noticed the hunters entering their territory, _period_.’’

‘’I’m sure Dr. Deaton knew what he was doing, and that his sense of thought seems a lot different to outsiders like us,’’ Scott says confidently. ‘’You weren’t there when me and him went through multiple old books to find out about the sacrifice and how to stop it. We spent a couple entire nights up and about to reach a solution to all sorts of problems we’ve endured. Even the kanima thing, he didn’t have any idea what it was, so I helped him research it. Just because you haven’t actually seen the effort he puts into helping us, doesn’t mean he hasn’t.’’

‘’Actually, Deaton _did_ know about the kanima, about what it was and how to help Jackson to get rid of it,’’ Stiles rebuffs angrily. ‘’He knew about it, because Derek told me that one of Peter’s bitten friends had turned into one, and Talia, with the help of his husband and Deaton, had been able to anchor him enough that he could shift into the werewolf form  he was meant to have. He just plays ignorant to see where the ploy gets him.’’

‘’I don’t think - ‘’

‘’ _And another thing,’_ ’ Stiles interrupts, ‘’The whole ‘sacrifice our souls to the Nemeton so we can save our parents’ - thing? Was all bullshit. The only thing it did was leave us vulnerable against any and all attacks the sudden power surge attracted. It’s the reason the Nog- ‘’ He swallows the word. Tries again. ‘’The Nogitsune possessed me. It’s the reason why all of us kept seeing those freaky fucking nightmares, which robbed us from actual _full body rest_ , which meant that we were left _weak and crippled_ . Deaton could have easily done the ritual himself, as he was protected from head to toe from all sorts of evils, but he wanted _us_ to do it. Because we were such an easy target for anyone to take on, which would’ve alerted Deaton right away of the things that cross the town.’’

Scott stares at his friend blankly. ‘’I don’t see how that is such a bad thing, though? If he knows where the monsters are, it takes a load off our backs to find them. And the Nogitsune. . . He _did_ warn us about the aftereffects of sacrificing ourselves to save our parents, but it was the only solution we had. We made sure of it. And I - Deaton wouldn’t let anything bad happen to us. You know how much he’s helped me in the past, and continues to do it too. If he’s keeping me as the alpha, as you claim, then he must have a good reason for it.’’

Derek manages to hold back his flinch, though Stiles looks a little outraged on his behalf, like he could actually _feel_ the hurt that pierced through Derek. He knows his first jump to alpha-hood wasn’t the best, not with the weight of his grief and fury and revenge blinding his judgement. He likes to think he did better choices later on, just before he almost lost Cora, but he does realize that it may have not come out as such to outsiders, since they had no inklings to Derek’s thoughts back then.

And the way he drove away Isaac, thinking it was the only way his frightened beta would’ve left him alone for his own safety, must’ve been horrible to witness. He has tried to amend that later on, after things quieted down and the danger passed, but Isaac’s prickly and hurt heart rejected his apologies straight out.

They’ve gotten back on track, now years later, but it did take time for Isaac to trust him again. And Derek understands that, respects it, and will certainly get it if Isaac will never accept him again as his alpha. It would _devastate_ him, but he would understand it.

‘’And what, pray tell me, would that reason be?’’ Stiles grits his teeth angrily.

Scott shrugs. ‘’I’ve handled the alpha powers a lot better than Derek did. Uh, no offense. My betas are all alive and my pack happy, unlike the entire time Derek was the alpha. Isaac is no longer scared of Derek either, and no evil things have come to Beacon Hills after we defeated the alpha pack and the Nogitsune and all the other bad dudes. Deaton has been a huge help in all of this, and a lot of the neighboring packs have heard about the true alpha, so my status in the supernatural world is keeping everyone safe, since nobody wants to mess with me.’’

Stiles jumps to his feet angrily. ‘’Uh, _all offense_ , Scott. The reason we haven’t had much any supernatural activity on the battle front is not thanks to Deaton, but thanks to _me and Derek_ . _We_ are the ones who put up the wards, _we_ are the ones who keep patrolling the perimeter, and _we_ are the ones who put in time and effort to create a spell strong enough to guard the Nemeton. Deaton has done nothing to help us protect the territory. The only thing he’s responsible of is your continued alpha hood at the expense of Derek.’’

Scott shakes his head with a huff. He crosses his arms and scowls. ‘’Well, maybe Derek’s a lot more level-headed now that he’s an omega and can no longer influence the people around him, like he did when he was an alpha. Did you think of that? Because _Deaton_ has. He saw first hand how badly Derek handled the power, and decided it belonged to someone worthy. And now that he’s an omega, he knows his has to submit to everyone else, or be kicked out of the territory.’’

‘’Do you even hear yourself speak?’’ Stiles asks faintly, paling. How is this the goofy little Scott he once met at a sandbox? Just how much of this belligerent, unsympathetic Scott is the result of Deaton’s continuous loop of lies?  ‘’Because every single word out of your mouth sounded like feeded propaganda to me. How could you even entertain thoughts like that? This land sings with Derek’s blood, with the death and birth of his ancestors. You’d - You’d truly force him to leave if he put one foot out of the line?’’

Scott shrugs again, a little uneasily. ‘’I mean, I wouldn’t. But. If he starts bringing trouble to the pack’s doorstep, then. . . Deaton would probably advice me to act.’’

The slap, when it rings out in the silent warehouse, seems to surprise both Stiles and Scott. Derek stands up as he sees the scene play out in slow motion, but he doesn’t dare intervene. Scott’s eyes are bright red, the handprint on his cheek flaring the same color. Stiles’ mouth is open with shock, like his hand just had a mind of its own and it reached out.

‘’What - ‘’ Scott starts, dumbfounded, but doesn’t finish. The two brothers stare at each other for seconds that feel like eons to Derek, both of them teetering on the edge of something final.

Something inevitable.

Stiles takes a step back. He lowers his hand. There’s not much he has to say, and all the things he wants to say. Scott stays seated, probably because Allison is clutching as his arm so hard her knuckles are white.

‘’Scott,’’ Allison says quietly, but seems like she doesn’t know how to finish. She looks unsure and unhappy, like she wants to side with Scott but knows in her heart that Stiles is on the right. She has witnessed Deaton’s scheming from close, knows the words are twisted sometimes, coming out of the vet’s mouth, only ever telling the truth, but also staying so vague that everything could easily be interpreted in many, many wrong ways.

Then Scott’s shock vanishes, and pure, unadulterated anger taking its place. ‘’I won’t do it,’’ he snarls, snatching his hand from Allison’s grip and standing up. ‘’The alpha spark is _mine_ , I gained it by my own means, by the purity of my actions. I’ve never heard of the True Alpha legend like you told me it as, and neither has Deaton. This is clearly just another manipulation tactic of Derek’s, trying to gain the alpha powers by any means necessary. You asked me to, so I’ve listened, but you can be sure as hell that I won’t partake in any rituals, when it means that I would lose everything. How do I know the ritual won’t kill me? How do I know that these vampires aren’t just friends of Derek’s, in on this ridiculous plan to overthrow me?’’

When he’s greeted with stunned silence, Scott snorts. ‘’That’s right. You don’t.’’ He turns on Gunilda and his wife and seethes rage as he spits out, ‘’I want you and your coven or clan or whatever the fuck you are, out of my territory by midnight tonight. If you aren’t, I’ll have my betas escort you to the city line. With force, if necessary.’’

Then he turns, grabbing Allison’s arm and taking her with him as he exits the building. Allison on her part doesn’t protest, but she does look back on Stiles and Derek, mouthing a ‘Sorry’ to them. As the door bangs closed, Derek sees Boyd relax.

‘’Well,’’ the beta says, ‘’That went well.’’

Derek stares at Boyd incredulously.

‘’Pretty far from that, but. I guess it could’ve gone worse,’’ Stiles amends, and sits down with a defeated sigh. He pushes his face into his hands, his scent growing bitter with heartache and grief. ‘’Fuck. I need a beer and a smoke.’’

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Derek goes to sit next to him. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ he offers quietly, to which Stiles shakes his head.

‘’Dude,’’ Stiles says, looking up to him. ‘’Totally not your fault. Scott’s a little stubborn when he wants to be. This whole ‘going to lose his alpha-shtick’ is pretty huge for him. This is the first time in his life that he’s anything other than the lonely loser, and maintaining the mantle of a leader is a pretty big ego boost for him. Not to mention, his dad was a pretty abusive shithead, so he’s always had a bad taste for authority figures, which meant that listening to you was something that he was never, ever gonna do.’’

When he sees the appalled look on Derek’s face, he frowns. ‘’Not like, physically abusive. He was just verbally very dismissive and mean, with no patience for kids like us. Rafael had a really tough time getting into his new FBI group, so he took the frustration out on Scott before Melissa put her foot down and kicked him out. After that, Scott spent a lot of time in the animal shelter, where Deaton hired him later on. That’s why it’s going to be pretty hard to convince Scott that Deaton’s the bad guy, because he’s been like a second dad to him for years. There’s a lot of trust and affection between the two of them. Revealing to Scott that his most trusted adult in his life has been a two-faced manipulator all these years? That’s a tough pill to swallow.’’

Derek nods. He’s seen it first hand how hard it is for Scott to listen to anyone who isn’t a friend. He had no idea it was because he’d been verbally abused as a kid.

He wonders absently if that made him very unsympathetic to other victims of abuse. Scott certainly never pulled his punches when he berated Derek, throwing his dead family and his psycho girlfriend in his face whenever he did something Scott didn’t approve of. Though he was never like that with Isaac, always very gentle and caring towards the beta, so maybe it was just Derek he treated like trash.

Stiles heaves a heavy breath. He falls back on the cushions and peers up to the vampires sitting silently in front of him. ‘’Well. Is it, um, possible to do the ritual without Scott present?’’

‘’I do not think so, no,’’ Gunilda says reservedly. ‘’And if it was, it would thread a fine line of dubious consent, since it will undoubtedly modify his body. It would take some time, but the loss of the alpha status would eventually shrink his muscles and weaken his strength. He wouldn’t be able to heal as fast and his stamina would drop.’’

‘’Fuck,’’ Stiles mumbles.

That sentiment Derek agrees with. He knows it was a long shot anyway. As much as he yearns for the power, not for the power itself but the family he would gain with it, he refuses to do the same to Scott that Scott and Deaton did to him.

‘’Well. I guess I’ll take a shot at that blockage thing though,’’ Stiles says determinedly. ‘’That way we’ll have some solid proof of Deaton’s schemes. Maybe even get a few words recorded from the man, so Scott’ll have more than enough evidence to prove us right.’’

‘’That would be wise, yes,’’ Gunilda says. ‘’My enforcer is very intimately familiar with the cleansing ritual. She can help you with it, if you need. Though I’ll have to advice you against confronting this druid head on. It’s best to play your cards close to your chest, and not reveal your hand too soon.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ Stiles says gratefully. ‘’I have no idea how to do any of it, so some direction would be super. I’m mediocre at pronouncing Latin, so I hope there’s not much of that.’’

‘’She’ll be glad to help, I’m sure. The spell is not at all difficult, I assure you.’’

Derek looks up to the vampires and clears his throat, gaining their attention. ‘’I just want to say that despite what Scott told you just now, you are more than welcome to stay on the territory as long as you’d like. He won’t be able to drive you out if you stay on my land, since it’s protected.’’

Gunilda nods, her shoulders loosening just an inch. ‘’I appreciate that, alpha Hale. I’ll advice my girls to drive their caravans into your territory. When daylight approaches, we will stay mostly inside and out of McCall’s path.’’

Derek nods. ‘’I’ll escort you to a loft that you can use as you see fit. I myself live in the upper floor, so if there’s any trouble, I’m available as much as I am home.’’

‘’Which is to say, all the time,’’ Stiles smirks weakly. ‘’He writes books in his copious free time, so if you’re interested, hit me up and I’ll get you a copy.’’

‘’I’ll keep that in mind. And on that note,’’ Friederike says, standing up, ‘’I think we’ll retire for the night. I will have a list sent to you Emissary Stilinski, for the ritual. When you have gathered all the ingredients needed, you may proceed with it, my enforcer as your company.’’

Stiles and Derek stand up as well. ‘’That would be amazing, thank you. I’ll have Derek program his and my numbers in your phone, so you’ll have a way to reach us that isn’t just letters sneaked from under the door.’’

Friederike takes out her smart phone and gives it to him. Stiles just smirks at Derek, wiggling his eyebrows. Derek rolls his eyes. So he likes having his old Nokia as his main phone, and keep the smartphone as more of a mini computer. Unlike Stiles’ expensive iPhone, his Nokia’s battery doesn’t run out the whole day, even if it’s left in freezing temperatures.

After Stiles has saved both of their numbers, he texts himself hers and offers the device back. ‘’Gute nacht to both of you,’’ Friederike says warmly, guiding her wife out of the warehouse. ‘’We will see you after a one moon cycle.’’

Bidding them good night, Stiles waves them off.

Before Boyd leaves, he stops Derek by the door. ‘’Look, man,’’ he says, his warm hand sliding on top of Derek’s shoulder. ‘’What Scott said about Isaac and your leadership skills. . . You shouldn’t take all that to heart. After the first two weeks of your fight, Isaac was ready to come back to you. But you weren’t an alpha anymore by then, and he had no idea how to approach you without the excuse of seeking comfort from a pack member. He’s not afraid of you, and he doesn’t hold the fight against you, not after he witnessed your reasons for it. He’s just prickly and too proud to come make amends with you. If you really do get your powers back, just know that me and Isaac and Erica? We’ll always choose you.’’

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Derek nods. He brings Boyd to an embrace, squeezing him tightly. ‘’I meant it,’’ he says quietly, as Boyd’s arms circle him back. ‘’You were always my choice as my second. It’s yours, should you want it.’’

Gentle affection wafts off the beta. ‘’I would be honored, alpha Hale,’’ Boyd answers readily, letting go. ‘’I truly hope things get sorted out. I’ve missed having an alpha.’’

Derek smirks. ‘’You say that now. . .’’

Amused, Boyd shakes his head. ‘’And I won’t take it back,’’ he says steadily, giving him a nod as he follows the last of the exiting vampires. ‘’Good night, Derek.’’

As Boyd decides to lead the coven to Derek’s loft, Stiles and Derek are the only ones left cleaning up the site.

They work silently in tandem, air heavy with unsaid things around them. Derek is certain he cannot ask Stiles of such great sacrifice. To lose a part of himself just for this? He might even lose _Scott_ in the process. The guilt of it would weigh heavily in Derek’s stomach for years after, surely.

‘’Are you sure you want to do this?’’ Derek asks him, once he cannot keep it inside anymore. He takes the last trash bag from Stiles’ hands, putting it down. ‘’You might lose a part of yourself you may never get back. I know you take pride in your magic. In years time, you’ll end up regretting this.’’

Stiles stills, slowly looks him straight into his eyes, cataloging him. He says, ‘’There are many things I regret in my past, but having you in my life? I’ve never, ever considered that a bad thing. You’ve lost everything, more than once, and I know full well that you think you deserved all of it. But the thing is. . . ‘’

He sighs sadly. ‘’You are not an Atlas. You are not Hercules or Superman or Tutankhamun. The world doesn’t have to strain on top of your shoulders, you don’t have to keep giving until there’s nothing of you left. Because you already _have_. And if it’s up to me? It’s time you get some of that back. And if it means I’ll sacrifice a small part of my spark to get you back your deserved alpha status? Then it’s of no burden to me to do it.’’

‘’But - ‘’ Derek starts, only to be stopped with a gentle hand against his mouth.

Stiles shakes his head. ‘’No. No buts, ifs or whys about it. I want to do this for you.’’

Feeling rather gutted at the confession, Derek shakes his head. He doesn’t understand why Stiles would do a sacrifice like this. In the past, Stiles would’ve reluctantly sided himself with Scott, the choice wrong or not. But that hasn’t been the case for a few years now, has it? The more Scott has withdrawn himself from the supernatural, Stiles has thrown himself head first into it, allying himself with Derek. Acting like a pack member would, seeking his company for this and for that, and for nothing at all. Sometimes Stiles just needs someplace quiet, and since Derek is alone all the time, his silent companionship seems to soothe his anxieties.

As if knowing his thoughts, Stiles withdraws his hands and says, ‘’You do realize that I have felt safe with you, from the very beginning? Ever since I was sucked into this side of reality, I have always been able to count on the fact that you had my back. Not Scott, not my dad, not Isaac or Allison or Lydia. _You_ . I was possessed by a demon spirit and you _still_ protected my body, because you wanted to believe that you could still save me. Which you did. You’ve almost died a many great times when you tried saving my life, or any of the pack’s lives. Fuck. You saved _Chris Argent_. If anyone deserves the mantle of an alpha that rose to power by ‘purity of their soul’ or whatever, then it should be you.’’

Regarding Stiles with solemnity, Derek blinks at him, unsure how to respond. There’s no skip on the human’s heart. ‘’I won’t ever be able to repay you,’’ he says quietly.

‘’You already have, dude,’’ Stiles says. ‘’Just. I know what you’ve been doing whenever Scott decides to lay back and not do his job as the alpha. That one full moon when Liam and Mason almost shredded you into pieces when you held them down in their craze? I knew it was happening. The wards alerted me immediately, but you’d herded the two of them deeper into the preserve before I could get there. I saw the blood, and I saw you, when you healed those wounds for three weeks straight. But you derailed the conversation whenever I tried to bring it up, so I figured you weren’t ready to talk about it. And I realize you’ve been doing it for a long time, and you _still_ continue to do it. To, to do Scott’s job because he’s still got no idea how much responsibility the job of an alpha is, nor how to handle it, even after years of being one. And it’s not _fair_ , because you’re only getting the shit side of the job, without any of the perks.’’

Derek grimaces. It’s the exact thoughts he’s been entertaining for a long while.

‘’And besides,’’ Stiles continues in frustration, ‘’The pack’s all miserable. Our hangout nights usually end up in disasters when things get too heated and someone wolfs out and starts a fight. These people have no control. Boyd’s tried to persuade Scott to consult advice from you multiple times, often with my support, but for what? For Scott to become angry and tell us that he’ll handle it, and then he _doesn’t_ . It’s dangerous! And there’s only so much I can do to prevent these idiots from wolfing out in public and maiming someone. These people need a leader who _knows_ his shit, and Scott sure as hell isn’t it.’’ He looks up at Derek pleadingly. ‘’We need an alpha. A _real_ alpha. And I’m one hundred percent sure I’m looking at him right now.’’

Sighing, Derek spreads his hands a little helplessly. ‘’If Scott refuses to do it, there’s not much we can do.’’

‘’Then we find an alternative option. A long term solution that will help all of us out of this stupid stalemate we’re in,’’ Stiles grimaces., rubbing his face. ‘’But first we have to find out the roots of this problem, and that means that I have a cleansing ritual to complete.’’ He takes his phone back out and grins. ‘’And _that_ means we have to find Peter.’’

  
  


~*~

  


Derek is not at all surprised that Stiles knew that Peter was alive. He’s also not at all surprised that Scott thought of him dead. What does startle him, however, is how easily Stiles got in contact with his uncle, when all of his own messages seemed to have disappeared into the void.

He doesn’t show his  hurt, however, when said uncle appears at his doorway the next day.

Even if he _is_ extremely upset.

‘’Well, nephew,’’ his uncle says, charming grin playing at his lips, ‘’If it means I’ll get the Hale spark back into the family, I guess I’ll offer my helping hand to you. It does, however, come with a price.’’

‘’When doesn’t it, with you?’’ Derek mutters, crossing his arms.

Peter tuts. ‘’Nothing you cannot afford, I assure you,’’ he says, stalking closer.

Derek’s eyes flare blue when Peter is a mere few feet from him, his uncle’s scent no longer tinged with the bitter _deadrotashburn_ , but his toned down, soft _betaunclefamilymischief_ that it used to be so long ago. It almost chokes him, slamming into his gut as he’s roughly yanked into memories of the past.

Peter notices this, the fluttery stutter of his aching heart, the grief which fills him, and he comes to a stop in front of him. ‘’My price, dearest nephew, is a very simple one,’’ he says, slowly cupping Derek’s neck as his stubbled cheek comes in contact with Derek’s. Scenting him. ‘’A place in your pack.’’

Derek stiffens when Peter’s palm comes in contact with the vulnerable part of his throat, but forces his body to relax. His uncle isn’t vying for the power, or if he is, he wouldn’t kill Derek now. He brings his arm and forces Peter to full body contact, an almost hug. It’s rough though, a far cry from a gentle familial embrace. ‘’Just that?’’ Derek asks, pressing his cheek tighter against his uncle’s.

 _Testing_ , Derek realizes belatedly. He’s getting a feel of his uncle, of whether or not he should trust him again. He’s always been very straightforward with his feelings, and his plans, unlike Peter. Peter is a con-man through and through, and he can twist a truth to fit his needs. A true enforcer of the pack, always, always thinking out of the box.

‘’Yes,’’ Peter agrees, his tone humoured. He knows _he_ can trust _Derek_.

‘’Then. If. If I get my powers back, and you have helped me with it, then I’ll have you. In my pack.’’ Anything, anything at all to get him back. He knows his uncle has isolated himself on purpose, has felt the pain of it in his thin bonds to the last of his family. He doesn’t understand why, when Derek has been here all this time, just as lonely and packless as he is, but regardless. There must have been a reason that Derek is just too blind to see.

Inhaling deeply, his uncle relaxes. ‘’I claim my place as the left hand again,’’ he says firmly.

Easing his arm away, Derek takes a step back. He stares Peter in his lit blue eyes, his own flashing in similar hue. ‘’I will ask you officially. When.’’

‘’Mm,’’ Peter nods, ‘’When.’’

And then, seemingly satisfied with this predicament, Peter takes his leave, grabbing a barely entered, startled Stiles by the arm as he exits the apartment.

‘’Huh? Ack! Hey, where do you think you’re taking me?’’ Stiles asks, bewildered. He looks at Derek, wide-eyed, though not panicked. Derek takes a note of that.

‘’He says he’ll help us,’’ Derek offers, shrugging.

‘’Then why is he dragging me away from here?’’ Stiles asks, though he turns his head to look at Peter’s profile. He’s going along with him without resistance.

‘’Because I do not have any books of use in here. You have a car, you’re going to drive me to my apartment and then you’re going to show exactly what the ritual you’re trying to complete entails,’’ Peter says, before he slams the door to Derek’s apartment shut, leaving Derek alone in the loft.

 _‘’But Derek’s a walking, talking, super well catalogued bestiary,’’_ he hears Stiles say, to which Derek imagines his uncle roll his eyes.

_‘’That’s true, but my nephew isn’t well versed in spells and enchantments. Hence, he has me. Now, stop dithering. I have other things to do too, today.’’_

Figuring the two will be back sometime tonight, Derek takes a look around him, and decides that, if he’s got no active role right now, he might as well get ahead with his work. His time to shine will be much, much later.

  
  


~*~

  


 

Two days later finds Derek and Stiles by the Nemeton, accompanied by Friederike and her enforcer, Adalgisa. Peter had opted to stay back, for reasons that Derek isn’t entirely clear of. Neither Scott nor Deaton will be there, or anyone else from the McCall pack, so his status of being alive wouldn’t have been revealed anyway. It would’ve made Derek a lot more at ease if his uncle had shown up as an extra pair of hands, should anything go haywire. He’s been reassured that nothing bad can happen from the ritual, but he _has_ lived his entire life in these woods, so he doesn’t quite trust that statement.

He’s sitting on top of the stump of the Nemeton, cold chills wrecking his body as Stiles paints symbols into his skin. The paste smells like pineneedles and thyme and various other things his nose can’t identify. Stiles is in similar state of undress, both of them bared except for their underwear, lines of green decorating Stiles’ frame.

‘’Alright, that’s the last of that. Are uh, the uh, rocks already in formation?’’ Stiles asks, rubbing his hands together to rid his palms of the extra paste.

Adalgisa affirms this from afar. ‘’You have ten minutes to reiterate the spell, and then the moon will have dipped too low.’’

‘’Why is there always such a short timeline on things like these,’’ Stiles whines quietly to Derek. ‘’Rushing spells and enchantments can’t bear well for anyone. What if an old person wanted to try this, but their dentures kept falling out all the time? You can’t say long shit like this in just a mere 600 seconds. What if you fumble and have to start over? It definitely compromises a lot of lives - ‘’

‘’Stiles,’’ Derek sighs, looking up at the human. ‘’Focus.’’

‘’Right. Focus. Less than 600 seconds left. Fuck. Yeah, let’s do this,’’ Stiles nods vigorously, taking a couple steps back from him. He makes sure his circle is round and perfect, the symbols still holding. Checking his surroundings, he notes the placement of the two vampires, the other exactly at the tree pointing north, the other on point for south. They’re staring towards the preserve, guarding them.

‘’Okay,’’ Stiles says, taking a deep breath. ‘’Okay. I can do this.’’

Derek nods, barely resisting to scratch at the markings on his skin. They’ve dried now, unusually fast, and it makes him itch all over. He stays still though.

Stiles takes a deep breath and begins in halting tone. His pronouncing is impeccable. As soon as the first words leave his mouth, it feels as if the Nemeton underneath Derek blinks awake with flourish. The roots seem like they’re flexing, the half dead flora inside their rock circle suddenly shooting up in bloom despite it being November.

Derek closes his eyes.

Stiles’ voice, a soothing, warm rumble embraces him. There’s something enveloping his frame, hesitantly wrapping around his skin. Tingles, warm and tentative, slither up his body, dipping into his veins. It moves between his legs, up to his neck and the backs of his ears.

It searches him thoroughly, reaching inside him, colliding with Derek’s slumbering alpha spark. Whatever spell Deaton has used, it has taken a form of its own inside Derek’s body, adapting into his system. Like a chameleon, it has camouflaged itself to resemble Derek’s own magic.

Derek hears Stiles’ heart stutter, before his presence suddenly becomes more pronounced. Heavy. He delves deeper into Derek’s weakened body, trying to find the poison.

With a pained jolt, Derek groans. It aches, when suddenly foreign tendrils wrap around his heart, squeezing and testing. Extracting something . It forces a gasp out of him, feeling his heart being handled. It’s rather disgusting, Derek decides in detached horror. He squirms, baring his teeth at the pain.

The touch throbs, like molten lava being poured on top of his heart. It sears into his arteries, spreading into his blood. The squirming expands into the area surrounding the organ, not unlike tight ropes squeezing harder and harder. Unconsciously, he rocks his body to alleviate the pain, saliva gathering in his mouth when the hurt doesn’t ease.

Just as he thinks that the imaginary tendrils will move away, possibly to his heavy feeling lungs, they let go and still.

Derek can’t help it. He has to open his eyes.

The sight that greets him in his agony muddled state is a terrifying one. Stiles’ eyes are vacant as he’s immersed in his own spell, his arms stretched forward but not touching Derek. The symbols on his skin are moving, slithering up and down, changing shape. They’ve become a shocking red in their hue, like they’re burning themselves into Stiles’ vulnerable skin.

Gritting his teeth against the feeling of Stiles still searching his insides, he notes that the paste in his own body has turned a vicious black, dripping down his skin. It burns him where the goo travels, though he doesn’t feel it as keenly as he does with Stiles’ magic entering his heart.

The ropes tighten again, his heart skipping beats. He pants, drool falling down from his mouth as he tries to bear the agony. He feels like he’s drowning in it, unable to gasp for air. Needing an anchor, something to focus on instead of the pain, Derek tries to look at Stiles’ fingers. They’re moving, slowly, like it’s them that are inside his body, invading in such crude way, squeezing and ripping and _tearing him apart_.

And then they still again and Derek collapses forward as he gasps and keens for a single breath. He doesn’t manage one, however. His lungs are filled with leaden and cotton, his throat closed and stuffed.

And then Stiles _wrenches_ his hands backwards, toppling down against the ground as Derek _howls_ in undescribable agony. His mouth fills with blood and poisonous black goo, his chest burning like it’s flayed open.

Writhing against the hard roots of the Nemeton, Derek gags and heaves, his nose and ears overflowing with blood as it spills on the ground. His limbs have become too heavy as they refuse to move to his bidding. He’s trapped and choking, and he fleetingly wonders if this is how he’s going to die.

But then Stiles’ warm hands are on his face, lifting his head from the ground, and the pain eases to a barely bearable throb. He convulses and seizes, the pain too much. The lava is still burning him from inside out, pouring out of his heart. He thinks he screams, though he doesn’t hear his own voice.

‘’Shh, shh, shh, hey, hey, hey, big guy. Shh, you’re okay. Fuck, you’re okay. Shh, just take a deep breath, that’s it. Just like that. Easy. Easy. Shh, it’s okay,’’ Stiles murmurs, gathering Derek’s heavy frame into his arms. ‘’Shh,’’ he shushes, eyes glowing bright gold as he guides the air back into Derek’s lungs, wiping away the black goo that insists still coming up his throat.

Deciding that a good moment, Derek throws up on himself.

And then he passes the fuck out.

  


~*~

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I am so sorry for the long wait! I've been struggling between publishing the last chapter and rewriting the ending, so I decided to give you some sort of middle ground (haha) and offer you this half update. I'm recovering from severe influenza that was followed by pneumonia, so I've actually been hospitalized for the first time in my life! It.. Was not exciting. Rather dull, since I was too sick to read or write or do anything ^^'
> 
> But, I'm home, and almost healthy again, so I'm writing the ending as we speak. I hope you guys are happy for awhile with this small update!
> 
> Also WARNING. This chapter contains vague talks of Kate's abuse of Derek in the past, and vague descriptions of Kate filming her and 14-year old Derek without his knowledge or consent. If that is a trigger for you, please proceed with caution to the last scene of this fic. It starts with 'Later that night, when Stiles has settled ..' so skip that entirely if that is something you do not wish to read.

Curiously enough, Derek wakes up in the bathtub of his own apartment. He blinks slowly, breathing shallowly. He’s momentarily pain free, soaking in hot water that smells overwhelmingly like his favorite lavender soap.

A steady, familiar heartbeat is fluttering against his back, though his hearing seems otherwise stumped. Long fingers are expertly scrubbing away the remains of the green, now black paste off his skin. Stiles is muttering incoherently as he works, moving steadily back and forth.

Peter is, surprisingly, sitting at the rim of the tub, his large hand wrapped around Derek’s arm, draining his pain. He’s not looking at either of them, though, his gaze distant and far away.

It’s oddly quiet in the room, Derek notes fuzzily. He’s too used to never ending bantering between the two men, a constant, if soothing, noise that’s almost always a background hum when they are in the presence of each other. This eerie, heavy silence that’s only interrupted by the splish-splash of Stiles dipping the sponge in water is definitely something to be concerned about.

‘’Uhhn - ‘’ Derek slurs, his mouth almost too heavy and numb to open. Stiles’ hands still immediately.

 _‘’Derek_?’’ the two men ask in unison.

‘’Uh-huh,’’ Derek hums drowsily, willing his limbs to move. Unsurprisingly, they don’t cooperate.

Stiles rushes to slouch forward, enveloping him into a strong hug. ‘’Jesus christ, big guy,’’ he says thickly. ‘’For a moment there, we thought we’d lost you.’’

As his memories flash the last snippets before his apparent bout of unconsciousness, then   _yeah_ , he thought for a moment the exact same.

Peter squeezes his hand gently, making Derek force  his head up to look at his uncle. The lines of his eyes are tight with unexpected worry, his mouth a thin line. Always so immaculately dressed, now his suit is disheveled and his hair standing up in all directions, as if he’s been running his fingers through it.

‘’You took on a lot more than we expected, or thought you capable of surviving,’’ Peter says in surprising bout of honesty. ‘’In fact, it’s rather a miracle that you managed to endure all of what you did, and still live to tell the tale.’’

At this, Derek inhales deeply, trying to discern the mood of the room by the scents. His lungs fill freely with air, no longer suppressed by the poison. He catalogs through the scents quickly. Stiles smells like _guilt-relief-concern_ beneath the thick chemical lavender scent.

Uncle Peter is oozing the same things, though there’s an insane amount of barely suppressed rage boiling right underneath his skin, not unlike a volcano ready to erupt. Jesus.

‘’Wha ha’ned?’’ Derek asks, leaning backwards, letting Stiles bear his weight. The human takes it gladly, pushing himself into a better sitting position. He also notices detachedly that he’s still wearing his underwear, as is Stiles.

It’s Stiles who answers, when all Peter does is glare angrily at the human. ‘’My, uh, my spark sort of, was a little too enthusiastic in taking out the corrupted magic,’’ he says, wincing.

Derek frowns. ‘’Whassat mean?’’

‘’It means, dear nephew,’’ Peter says sharply, clearly fighting back the shift, ‘’That instead of just cleansing _your_ magic, Stiles decided to purge the poison out of the Nemeton in the same sweep. Something your body wasn’t meant to handle in the first place.’’

‘’I didn’t mean to!’’ Stiles denies vehemently. ‘’It was an accident, I _swear_ . The pull of the magic, it was just, it was too strong. I couldn’t stop the ritual when I realized it wasn’t only you I was helping. The Nemeton, it, it grabbed into my spark and it just, it forced me to use you as a vessel to purify itself from Deaton’s spell, I couldn’t - I’m - I’m so _fucking sorry_.’’

‘’S’okay,’’ Derek hum. ‘’ ‘m still here.’’

‘’You very nearly _weren’t_ ,’’ Stiles snaps, before immediately deflating. His hands are shaking, Derek notes, where he’s holding onto his arms. ‘’And if it weren’t for Adalgisa and her quick reflexes, I’m pretty sure you would be dead right now. She saw you were almost choking in your own blood and the vomit goop, so she intervened, breaking the circle necessary for the spell. I was impotently trapped under you, forced to - to - ‘’

Stiles doesn’t manage to finish, but Derek can smell how guilty he is. Not that any of it was his fault to begin with. Since Stiles has grown to control his powers impeccably, the Nemeton’s manipulation of his magic must’ve been clearly pretty traumatizing. The Nogitsune is not a fresh wound, but it still smarts at Stiles, especially when his control is shaken.

‘’Peter,’’ Derek rasps, ‘’Don’t be angry.’’ _at Stiles_ , he doesn’t say, but his uncle hears the implications. Fuck, Peter _loves_ Stiles. They’re a very lethal combo when put in a room together.

Peter huffs in frustration. ‘’I’m not,’’ he says, and Derek doesn’t hear a blip in his heart. He too, must be feeling guilty then. The two are the ones who went through the ritual, the loops and errors, and now their calculations have failed, even though they worked on them immaculately.

‘’At yourself either,’’ Derek implores gently. ‘’We couldn’t have predicted this.’’

Peter glares at him, but it’s softer now. Accepting. What’s done is done. All of them know there’s no going back into the past to change things, no matter how much they regret it.

‘’Well. What matters is that neither you nor the Nemeton are under the influence of Deaton’s magic. Your body is already healing faster too.’’

Pulling his hand to the surface, Derek examines the skin of his arm. Stiles’ attempts at scrubbing away the green, now black paste has proved fruitful, even if there are markings akin to burn scars left in their stead.

Since Peter is draining his pain, Derek only feels phantom pressure in his chest, scouring through his veins. His heart doesn’t feel like it’s being squeezed out of its place, but he knows for certain that once his uncle stops and takes a step back, an inhuman amount of pain will return to his body. However fast or slow he’s now healing, his magic is slow to gain back its strength.

‘’Not that fast, nephew,’’ Peter says, reading his thoughts. ‘’You were inches from death. Those burn marks will take week to heal, even after you gain back your alpha powers. As you’re now, blurred between an alpha, a beta and an omega, it’ll take you a lot longer to feel like yourself again.’’

‘’So you’re on bed rest,’’ Stiles says. ‘’The first part of yours is done, and now, since the full moon is still three weeks away, you have plenty of time to recuperate before the next and final ritual.’’

Derek frowns, puzzled. ‘’So Scott said yes?’’

‘’Well, no,’’ Stiles amends, ‘’But don’t worry. I’ll convince him yet. I’ll talk to him, make him see some reason. It’s not like he even _wants_ to be a werewolf, let alone an alpha. It was only after _I_ started throwing myself into the fray with _you_ that he started rethinking his stance. He hadn’t even realized how much the two of us had spent time together until Allison wanted a three week ‘break’ from them, and I was too busy to hang out with him. He’s not used to me not being available to him at all times, so I think it shook him up a bit. Hell, if Deaton had found a way to reverse him back to human, I’m sure Scott wouldn’t even think twice before throwing the alpha spark back to you.’’

‘’Even if Mr. Deaton had found a cure, I doubt he would have shared it,’’ Peter says dryly. ‘’He needs young Mr. McCall to be an alpha so he has an entire pack in his disposal.’’

Stiles nods. ‘’Yeah. I know,’’ he says, defeated. ‘’I just can’t believe how much preliminary work Deaton has put into this, and how many years he must have been planning this. Fuck.’’

Peter’s phone beeps, but Stiles is too distracted to notice, mumbling about his brother. The human picks up the floating sponge and starts his work up again, but Derek is watching his uncle carefully. With how much fury his uncle exudes, it’s alarming how calm he is being. Peter checks the device, quickly tapping a reply before pocketing his phone. His eyes are glinting dangerously as he turns, though he seems just a little bit taken aback when he meets Derek’s intense stare.

‘’Seems like I have urgent places to be,’’ Peter says, withdrawing his hand. He rises up just as Stiles snaps into attention.

‘’What? Why? More urgent than _this_?’’ Stiles asks, bewildered, gesturing to Derek’s helpless form.

‘’I’m afraid so, yes. There are far more pressing matters needing my attention, and my nephew is clearly in the greatest hands there are. I have instructed Boyd to make a visit in a couple hours when he’s off work. He’ll do another pain drain so that Derek is able to sleep.’’

‘’Peter - ‘’

With a wave of his hand, Peter silences Stiles. ‘’The paste, as you scrub it off, will lose its potency. Clean him up as best as you can, dry him up and get him to bed. Make some tea for him, from flowers that you have harvested yourself, and _will it_ to bring its drinker health. Your spark will work the actual healing factor in. A good night’s sleep will hopefully work wonders, as long as you keep waking Derek up every four hours to eat and drink.’’

‘’But where are you going then?’’ Stiles demands.

‘’To greet some guests of mine. Don’t worry your pretty little head with it.’’

‘’My pretty little - What the fuck?’’

Sensing something off, Derek tries to sit up in the tub. He doesn’t quite manage, slipping back into Stiles’ embrace. ‘’Wait, Peter, ‘’ he groans as he reaches out with his hand, feeling panic starting to claw at his chest. There must be some other ploys in play that he’s unaware of. That _Stiles_ is unaware of. His uncle is definitely up to something dangerous.

Peter stops at the doorway, too far from Derek’s reach. His uncle looks back at him with a raised brow.

Derek swallows. There are so many things he wants to say, _needs_ to say, but fear and uncertainty makes him clam up. Although Derek is dependent on his uncle being in his life, Peter’s distance has shown him that maybe the two of them are not on equal footing on that. Maybe Peter doesn’t actually want Derek in his life, but the alluring thought of the Hale spark returning into the family is making him _force_ himself to stay -

Derek shuts that thought down fiercely.

In the end, he settles quietly with, ‘’Be careful.’’ It feels inadequate and dull, but his uncle nods solemnly. Like that’s all he even expected of Derek, always so lost with his words.

‘’I’ll be back,’’ Peter says, before disappearing through the door.

‘’What a dick,’’ Stiles huffs at Peter’s retreating back.

Derek grunts, gritting his teeth against the strong wave of pain that suddenly washes over him. It engulfs him in its entirety, molding his body into bent shape as his muscles tighten in response. The tub doesn’t allow him to quite get into fetal position, his nose barely above the surface of the water as he rocks his body. The water’s starting to cool down and both of them are shivering now.

Stiles notices his predicament, knowing it would happen. ‘’If I get us both up and out of the tub, do you think you’ll be able to stand by yourself for a minute, if I go grab some towels and clothes?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Derek says with clattering teeth.

Stiles hesitates. ‘’You sure?’’

‘’If you keep dithering, then no,’’ Derek grits out.

‘’Right,’’ Stiles says. ‘’Okay. In one?’’

Derek nods.

‘’Three, two, one - ‘’ Stiles heaves them up in an incredible show of strength. Clearly the FBI training has been good for him.

‘’Okay, grab - Grab the shower panel and the wall for a bit. I’ll be back in like, two seconds, okay?’’

‘’Hurry,’’ Derek grunts. Stiles clambers out with curses dropping from his mouth. It takes a lot of effort to stay upright, his body screaming in protest. He doesn’t realize he’s panting from the intensity of the pain until Stiles’ clumsy footfalls and hummingbird heartbeat fades and he’s left alone in the bathroom. His breathing echoes heavily around him, a buzz starting in his ears.

‘’Fuck,’’ he allows himself, biting back an inhuman scream.

The burning sensation in his heart returns, the same molten lava spreading through his veins. His legs are trembling in earnest as he does his damndest to stay standing.

‘’I’m back!’’ Stiles announces breathlessly as he stumbles back in. The man makes an immediate beeline for Derek, taking the brunt of his weight as he helps Derek out of the tub and sitting on the toilet lid. Clearly he hadn’t stopped to change clothes for himself or even dry up a little bit, because he’s still dripping water on the floor in contest with Derek.

After that, Stiles makes things roll forward and fast. In no time at all, Derek is dressed in sweatpants and a warm henley, situated back into his bed. Stiles has found Derek’s hufflepuff sweats and is wearing them, along with Derek’s sweater that has leather patches in the elbows. Someone, his biggest suspect Peter, has changed even the sheets on his bed, though pushed some used t-shirts under the pillows. He can smell both himself and Stiles, as well as Peter and Boyd, as well as in extension Erica. It’s effective, and calms him down significantly faster.

Burrowing under the feather blanket, Derek tries to come in terms of the waves of agony that sweep over him periodically. The longer he’s without any pain draining, the stronger the spasms of pain are. His head throbs heavily in the  beat of his stuttering heart, muscles cramping in attacks similar to mild seizures.

At least this time nothing is dripping from his orifices. Small mercies.

Stiles makes him quick macaroni and spicy meatballs. He barely manages to eat half of it before he has to stop in case he throws up. A cup of tea made of borage leaves Stiles harvested a couple months ago soothe his stomach, making the hurt in his body retreat for a moment.

His stomach full and warm, Derek makes space on the bed for Stiles to settle next to him. The human immediately clings to him like an octopus, his arms and legs wrapped around him as much as physically possible. Stiles has always been tactile, more like a wolf than what Scott pretends to be. The proximity of Stiles’ spark seems to also factor into his healing, he realizes, as when the minutes tick by with Stiles quietly matching his breathing with Derek’s, the pain blazing through him drops to a dull, aching background hum.

He’s only faintly aware of Boyd’s arrival, already falling into deep slumber with Stiles warm by his side. And when the beta’s weight dips the bed lower, his large hand coming to rest where Derek’s neck meets his shoulder, does he succumb into heavy sleep.

.

.

.

 

Stiles wakes in the small hours of the morning, just before dawn is about to break. He’s snuggled close to Derek’s frame, blanket bracketing them both as Derek is wrapped around him.

There’s something serene about waking up feeling warm and safe, everything soft and muted around them. Stiles blinks slowly, eyes fuzzy, unsure what woke him up. His body tenses up in vigilance. For a moment, he listens intently his surroundings, hearkening for anything out of ordinary.

When things stay utterly still and quiet, he relaxes back into Derek’s hold. He’s alert now though. It’ll take him some time to fall back to sleep.

Inching closer to Derek, he lets himself soak the man’s sleepy soft face in. Derek looks younger, more vulnerable in his slumber. His muscles are lax, his fingers curled adorably where they rest against Stiles’ lower back. Stiles can feel the steady, slow rhythm of Derek's heartbeat through his back, something tangible to affirm to him that Derek is still alive.

Gazing up at him, his own heart in his throat, Stiles whispers reverently, ‘’God, I’m so in love with you.’’

It hurts, the admission. He’s been protecting those words for so long in his heart, carefully guarding his tongue to never let them out. But here, in this quiet moment when he knows for certain he won’t be heard, it feels somehow important to let them out. To make the world hear it, even if it stays within these four walls. He reaches gently, caressing Derek’s lax lips.

‘‘I love you so much, but I have no idea how to tell you,’‘ he whispers. ‘‘Am I allowed to feel this strongly about you? Am I allowed to admit my love for you, without breaking either of us, or scaring you away?’‘

He strokes Derek’s jaw, cupping his cheek. The man’s lashes are long and thick against his grey pallor, though he’s clearly healing. The burn marks on his arms are almost gone, the spasms of pain subdued, quieted. There’s just a small flush pinking Derek’s cheeks, his temperature higher in slumber. The man sighs in his sleep, relaxing even closer to Stiles. 

‘‘I know you love me too,’‘ he continues, his fingers trailing down to Derek’s neck. ‘‘I can feel it as if it is a physical thing when you’re close to me. But is it the same kind of love? Or is it more familial?’‘

He lets out a trembling breath. ‘’I’m far too scared of losing you to ask you.’’

The clock on the nightstand ticks to four thirty. 

Stiles curls himself impossibly closer to Derek’s bigger frame. He places Derek’s arm better around him, his nose resting against the man’s throat. Derek tightens his hold momentarily, his brows creasing with the movement, before it smooths out. 

‘‘I love you,’‘ he whispers to Derek’s skin. ‘‘And tomorrow, when you wake up, I hope you’ve somehow heard me, and that you’ll find the courage to maybe love me too.’’

Derek hums in his sleep, nosing Stiles’ hair. He finds a better position, jostling them both, before Stiles watches him fall deeper into unconsciousness. Before long, Stiles follows him, just as the first rays of sunshine start lighting up the horizon.

They still have time. There’s no need to rush, not this. Not when they’ve both been hurt so many times in the past.

Love is always patient.

  


~*~

 

Two days later of his fiasco of a ritual, Stiles finds himself hurrying through his grocery list to get back to Derek’s loft. The werewolf is still in bed rest, barely even conscious half of the time, which worries not only him, but Peter and the coven as well. Friederike is certain his slumber is because Deaton’s spell is still affecting Scott, keeping the alpha spark tightly in the young wolf’s grasp, when Derek’s body is already yearning and ready for the power to come back. He _needs_ the power back, before his body withers away in its effort to heal. The whole premise is too unnatural to begin with.

Stiles has promised to make meatloaf, which made his dad volunteer to come stop by to check things out, so Stiles has three hours before he’s supposed to be ready. There’s nobody with Derek at the moment, since Boyd had work and Peter had disappeared more than once after abandoning them into the bathroom.

(He pretends he didn’t see the stains of blood in Peter’s impeccable suit the next morning. He’s not sure whether or not it was just Peter letting off steam at the helpless situation, or if there’s other dangerous things lurking around the territory, possibly lured in by the big spasm of power the ritual created. He doesn’t want a confirmation to either.)

As his wards had tingled dangerously, alerting him to unsolicited visitors, the coven has taken it their duty to protect the borders as a token of gratitude to be allowed to stay, and they’ve been kept busy. Adalgisa and Friederike come by once a day at the loft, to report and to see how Derek’s holding up.

Although his mind is a worried, scrambled mess, it doesn’t escape his notice that there’s a certain werewolf lurking in his immediate proximity. His brother has been following him for a good while now, though Stiles has paid him no mind.

They haven’t spoken since Scott left the meeting with banging doors, though he’s received reassuring texts from Allison that they’re working on it. He doubts anything will come of it, but he appreciates that she is at least trying.

‘’Um, hey Stiles,’’ Scott finally approaches, and Stiles calmly puts the package of meat back into the cooler, turning to his brother.

A little suspicious, and a lot of awkward, Stiles nods. ‘’Hey, dude.’’

‘’Grocery shopping?’’ Scott asks.

‘’Yeah,’’ Stiles allows, taking the other man in. Scott looks relaxed, cheerful even, and unlike Stiles, Boyd and Peter that have been worrying over Derek, Scott looks like he’s been sleeping well. Stiles has bruises under his eyes from staying awake in case Derek gets another muscle cramp during the night, or if he wakes up and needs help in eating or going to the bathroom.

Of course, Scott doesn’t know about any of it. The ritual was kept a secret, at least from those not in immediate contact with Derek.

‘’For your dad?’’

‘’Nah,’’ Stiles says, knowing he can’t lie now or he’ll immediately set Scott on the defensive. And Scott knows exactly where he’s staying, because Stiles’ scent is impossible to discern from Derek’s and Peter’s, whose clothes he’s wearing. ‘’I’m stocking up for Derek and Peter, because when I tried to make breakfast this morning, there was _nothing_ even remotely edible in the entire loft. There’s never enough food in the loft when it’s needed. If I didn’t drag Derek out to shop every now and then, I’m pretty sure he’d either starve, or then live on takeout. Which is weird because I know for certain that Derek loves to cook, and that often lures either me or Boyd in for company.’’

He pauses, mulling it over. ‘’Actually, I take that back. Derek hates processed foods, so I’m pretty sure that he’d rather starve than submit himself to greasy, chemically filled foods. He tolerates pizza and adores thai food, but hamburgers and fries and fried chicken? He refuses to even have the stink of those in his apartment.’’

At Scott’s frozen, wide-eyed look, he backpedals. ‘’Uhh, never mind. What are you doing here? Shopping with Melissa are you?’’

He peers around, trying to spot fierce Mrs. McCall. Scott’s notorious for letting the women in his life do all the shopping. Food or otherwise.

Blinking rapidly for a moment, Scott shakes himself out of his reverie and smiles. It’s a little crooked, and not necessarily quite reaching his eyes, but it’s there. ‘’Uh, no. Mom’s at work. I was actually looking for you?’’

‘’Aww, little old me?’’ Stiles says. ‘’You shouldn’t have. But, well. You found me. What can I do for you?’’

‘’I was wondering if we could talk?’’

Stiles looks around him. ‘’Uh, now?’’

‘’Well, yeah?’’ Scott says. ‘’I mean, not here now, but. If you could come with me to Deaton’s for a bit? I just want to clear things between us. Last time. . . ‘’

 _Last time ended in a clusterfuck_ , Stiles thinks sourly. ‘’Yeah, last time was a bit. . .’’

‘’But that’s the reason I wanna talk to you for a moment,’’ Scott says earnestly. ‘’If you want. I’d be super happy if you did.’’

Stiles sighs. ‘’Sure thing bud. Can I finish my shopping first or?’’

‘’Yeah, no, finish away!’’ Scott nods enthusiastically. ‘’I can go ahead and wait at Deaton’s okay? Come whenever you’re ready.’’

Stiles waves him off and Scott practically bounces on his heels from happiness. Looking after him rather wearily, Stiles glances down at the packages of meat. ‘’I’ll be taking you with me so that I can just hop in and out, super fast. You’re gonna be my cover, and I’ll use you as an excuse to not stay too long so that Derek doesn’t have to grump about leaving you in a warm car to rot,’’ he grumbles, taking the biggest slab of lamb he finds.

Things are either going to be great after the talk, or then he might potentially lose his life-long brother.

 _Great_.

  


~*~

  


The waiting room at the vet’s is almost empty, sans a couple people holding their small rodents in their laps. The place hasn’t changed at all in the past years, still the picture perfect vet’s office, despite the numerous times they’ve spilled blood into the floors.

Though now that he’s harvested his own powers and knows how to use them, he can sense Deaton’s defense wards easily, which he couldn’t before. They’re solid, if old. The man doesn’t seem to find it necessary to strengthen them every now and then.

They aren’t a match to Stiles’ spark, however, though Deaton is unaware of the fact. In the dark hours of his spark fully manifesting, Peter and Derek as the witnesses for his horrifying and painful experience, they urged him not to tell anyone else. Keeping his cards to his chest, protected behind the element of surprise.

Though he doubted it back then, suspicious, always, _always_ mistrusting, the advice has since then proven to be a wise choice. Putting his faith in Derek has always been rather instinctive, even before they got to know each other. There’s just something about him that Stiles has always found reassuring, despite the hard times they underwent. Even Scott is unaware of his magical abilities, or the extent of them. The wards he and Derek put up are the physical proof of his powers, but the _amount_ of magic he has? A guarded, well hidden secret.

He’d placed his trust in Derek and Peter, and his reward so far has been handsome. He didn’t use to like it, so afraid either of them would spill the beans or threaten him with exposing him to unsolicited visitors. He feels rather foolish about it now. Like, as if the Hales, with so much death and betrayal weighing their shoulders, would make Stiles vulnerable as an easy target for an attack, and for what? Money? _Information_?

Stiles was more valuable to them than that. And he hadn’t realized it until a couple years back.

‘’Ah, mister Stilinski,’’ Deaton greets him, keeping the gate to the backroom open. ‘’Scott said you would be stopping by.’’

‘’Um, yeah, hi,’’ Stiles says as he walks through. ‘’I kinda figured that, since he wanted to meet here that you’d be joining our discussion?’’

Closing the gate, Deaton shakes his head. Stiles feels the wards activate, as well as the mountain ash circle that’s been put around the office. Not the whole building though, which Stiles has always found interesting.

He used to think Scott’s ability to cross mountain ash was because he was a true alpha, but in the light of the recent events, maybe it’s because Deaton’s magic covering him in his entirety. Scott is probably completely unaware that the line of mountain ash even exists in the office, since he’s able to come and go as he pleases. The rest of the wolves can’t.

‘’I’m afraid I have a couple more customers I need to tend to. You can use one of the unoccupied operating rooms to talk, as long as you steer clear from any medical equipment.’’

‘’I’ll be sure to let Scott know that,’’ Stiles says. ‘’Did he start working or is he loitering around somewhere?’’

‘’I’m quite certain I saw him near the dog crates. A couple injured mutts have enamored themselves to him,’’ Deaton says dryly. ‘’It’s down the hall.’’

‘’Thanks,’’ Stiles says, making his way to the sound of barking. The dog crates are in the mudroom near the backyards door, easy access to let the animals outside to play. He finds Scott just where Deaton told him he would be, being smothered in kisses by couple small dogs.

‘’Hey,’’ Stiles greets him as he steps in, closing the door. ‘’You look busy.’’

‘’Hey, bro,’’ Scott grins, setting the dogs down. ‘’Sorry. I’m not busy. I just wanted to snatch a cuddle or two from these little buggers. A woman found them near the dog park, no tags and no collars and no owners. We’ve put up a couple flyers, but so far nobody has claimed these two, and I’m starting to think that no-one even will. I just want to give them as much love as I can, before we put them up for adoption.’’

Leaning against one of the walls, Stiles hums. ‘’Humans are often the most cruelest of creatures.’’

‘’Ain’t that the truth,’’ Scott agrees. He coaxes the dogs back into their crate where they whine sadly at him as he closes the door.

‘’So,’’ Stiles says as Scott stands up.

‘’So,’’ Scott echoes, suddenly, painfully awkward.

There’s a moment of silence when both just stare at each other, before Stiles huffs, pushing himself off the wall. He has an inkling that their discussion will not go well, and he’d rather have a smoke as they talk. ‘’Think we could talk outside? I could use a cigarette.’’

Scott wrinkles his nose. ‘’I don’t understand how you can put any of them anywhere near your mouth. They smell and taste rancid.’’

Stiles shrugs. ‘’I have anxiety. You know this. Cigarettes help me relax.’’ He doesn’t add that he only smokes when he’s angry, really, truly furious, which is maybe once every six months. If that. He carries the package with him though, the act of inhaling and exhaling deeply forcing him to calm down.

Though, in a way, he understands Scott’s concern. He does smoke mostly only around Scott, his nerves always a little frayed when pack politics come to play. Or Derek. Those two topics are mostly off limits as a subject of discussion if either wants to leave the meetings in good mood.

Seeming to debate himself for a second, Scott reluctantly nods, heading out. ‘’Let’s go to the furthest corner so we won’t set the fire alarm. A couple customers have done it more than once.’’

The day is more bright than Stiles wants it to be. The sun shines directly onto them as they settle onto a wooden bench by the back fence, the sky clear blue and cheerful.

Stiles wants to show the universe his middle finger.

Instead, he drops the blue sunglasses from the top of his head into place and leans back against the wall. Scott mirrors his position, though he has to shadow his face with his hand in order to see anything.

‘’So,’’ Scott starts, staring at Stiles intensely. ‘’How are things?’’

Lighting up his cigarette, Stiles takes a drag. ‘’Pretty good,’’ he answers, since other than Derek’s drop to near death, his life is currently very organized and happy. He has a good job, great friends and his dad is healthy. He finds himself settled, heart full of life. He never in a million years thought he would have deserved this, not after everything that went down during the Nogitsune episode. Yet, here he is.

There’s only this tiny thing that he’s had off kilter these past few years, put into place wrong. Though he feels that once Derek is back to his alpha status, things will somehow finally lock into place.

It’s been a long time since they’ve had this sort of heart-to-heart. Stiles guesses it’s been due for years now, and the fact that it happens _now_. . . Well.

‘’Yeah?’’ Scott asks. ‘’Because you’re. . . Hanging with Derek?’’

Stiles shrugs. ‘’We’ve become friends over the past few years. He’s actually a pretty great guy once you get to know the real him.’’ In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘’I know you two don’t really get along well, but. Derek, he’s. . . Full of contradictions, you know? He’s surly and quiet, liking to keep to himself a lot, but at the same breath, he’s very encouraging and kind in his own gruff ways. He’s not only a great friend, but a really amazing mentor. His advice and endless patience is the reason I could anchor my magic, you know?’’

Scott looks rather incredulous. ‘’Derek? The ‘Do you want to do homework or do you want to not die?’ -Derek?’’

Stiles smirks. ‘’He’s grown out of that threatening thing, dude. I mean, he can, and he will threaten if he deems it necessary, but he’s not afraid for his life anymore. There isn’t much danger lurking around the shadows these days, nothing making him nervous enough to fall back into the comfortable zone of anger that protects him.’’

Looking away, Scott pushes a foot onto the bench, picking at his shoelace. ‘’I didn’t know you were friends with him. You know? I thought you were, dunno, just tolerating him for the sake of getting information out of him. Like, keep your enemies close -kind of tactic? I mean, I can’t believe. . . It’s just. . . It’s Derek. _Derek_ . _That_ Derek.’’

Stiles tries not to get offended. ‘’We spent that one summer together looking for Erica and Boyd. Was bound to get to know to him. He knew loss, and he knew fear, and. . . Dunno. We just fit.’’

‘’It’s. . . Weird,’’ Scott admits. ‘’Though I gotta say, I only noticed you hanging out with him since, like, a month ago.’’

Stiles exhales, blowing out smoke. ‘’Nah, bro. We’ve been close for years. A bit like pack, yeah?’’

Scott slants a narrow-eyed look. ‘’But you’re my emissary. You  belong in _my_ pack.’’

Stiles purses his lips. This is it, isn’t it? Time for some very brutal honesty. ‘’I know, dude, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. Like, like this situation for example,’’ he says, gesturing with his hand. ‘’Your immediate reaction is always to go to Deaton. You seek advice, comfort and healing from him, when you should be getting those things from me. Deaton acts more like your emissary, though he only does it half-way. Not putting up wards and not informing you when there’s things that enter the territory, when he can feel them arriving.’’

‘’That’s not true. Deaton lets me know about things when he knows times are dire. Sometimes people just want to cross the town without having any contact with us, and I think that’s perfectly fine. I don’t want to know about every single creature that crosses the border, because not everyone is a threat,’’ Scott says exasperatedly.

‘’It’s not I think that every single creature is a threat, it’s just that we need to stay alert in case someone one day _is_ . Don’t you get it? You’re supposed to be the alpha, protect your territory. If you don’t know about things that happen under your nose, how do you prepare yourself in case of a crisis? I admit I don’t always know the things that we meet, but that’s why I can always ask. Research. It’s why we’re a _pack_ . It’s not one person’s responsibility to be a know-it-all, we _share_ our burden, our knowledge.’’

Scott growls. ‘’Of course I know what’s happening inside my territory. I don’t have to know the nitty gritty details when I have the whole picture. Haven’t I kept everyone safe for _years_ now? Something you can’t say about Derek. And Deaton is just, he knows so _much_. It’s easy to go to him to ask help, since I know he’ll be able to come up with a solution quickly. Not that you couldn’t, but you don’t have the expertise that doc has, nor the years of experience. And also, it would take you days to research, when Deaton usually knows straight away what’s going on. Or at least, mostly straight away.’’

Stiles puffs out an irritated swirl of smoke. ‘’And what does Deaton say about the situation at hand?’’

The alpha quiets for a moment. He studies Stiles’ face with a frown. ‘’That it’s suspicious how Derek’s got you sidled to him, when you’re supposed to be on _my_ side. _I’m_ your alpha, your _brother_ , so why would you suddenly want Derek to be the alpha? And within the expanse of my powers? It’s. . . Not right.’’

Stiles stares at him in disbelief. _How does he not get it?_ ‘’Because you don’t _act_ like an alpha. Your pack is _miserable_ , dude. Liam barely has _any_ control during full moons, which is dangerous. Do you know how many times Derek has corralled them into deep of the preserve, away from the mundane they could hurt? How badly they usually attack him when their wolves are not anchored, their own alpha not present? I know you had a traumatizing start to this whole fucking thing, but your excuses of not even trying have long since worn out.’’

Scott gapes at him.

Stiles jumps up and starts pacing. He’s so angry right now. ‘’You say you’re the alpha but it doesn’t show in your actions. You never do _anything_ for your pack. The pack nights you _do_ organize sometimes end up in disasters with you tucking your tail and leaving with Allison, instead of taking control of the situation. Your betas _need_ a leader, they need someone they can trust themselves to, who will guide them when they’re lost. They’re not born wolves, they need to exercise their control, stretch it, work on it. But instead of doing any of that, you go on frequent dates with Allison, not sparing your time to your betas at all. You’re barely available to anyone else these days, since you never even answer your _goddamn phone.’’_

Breathing heavily, Stiles glares at Scott. The wolf looks at him like he’s crazy.

‘’Dude,’’ Scott says slowly. ‘’That doesn’t sound like you at all. You don’t - You don’t usually say things like this. If you want to call me out on my shit, you help me. This isn’t you man. And just for the record? I’ve never attacked anyone, I always have control. And Boyd is incredible during full moons, he doesn’t even shift sometimes.’’

It’s Stiles’ turn to gape. ‘’I’ve tried helping you!’’ he hisses, incredulous. ‘’The problem is that you _won’t listen_ . You _never_ listen. You _always_ brush me to the side if I have anything to say that doesn’t directly agree with you. _Derek_ , on the other hand, he doesn’t do that. He’s well aware that his experiences are limited, and that if he needs to adjust his world view, he’ll do it. Unlike you, who thinks he knows all, sees all, and can do no fucking wrong.’’

But Scott is shaking his head. ‘’Derek this, and Derek that. . . I know you’ve had a fear boner for Derek since high school, okay? So it’s not that shocking that you’d want to look cool in front of him, with all the defending him shit, but, Stiles. . . This is you playing with people’s lives. Think about it. What would happen to the pack if their alpha suddenly lost his powers? You claim that Liam doesn’t have control, well. He’d lose all of it if I wasn’t there for him. The last time Derek was an alpha, he lured in a _pack_ of evil alphas and a lot of people were _killed_ , dude. He was a shit leader, even Isaac, his own beta, came to _me_ , when I was just a beta. You know? Being around Derek or Peter is dangerous. You’ll end up getting yourself killed if you keep hanging out with them.’’ The wolf bares his teeth angrily, ‘’Which by the way is also super suspicious, since they could easily be manipulating you. It wouldn’t be the first time Peter has taken someone’s memories away, or somehow threatened you into complying. It’s why I asked you to talk to me here, so that Deaton can perform a spell that will make sure you’re not under any magical influence.’’

‘’I _cannot believe you_ ,’’ Stiles spits. ‘’What the fuck, man. How can you sit there say all this shit? Magical influence? _Really_ ? Do you think I haven’t warded my head from my fucking toes so I won’t go absolutely mental trying to protect my mind? You think I honestly didn’t learn from that _one time_ my mind was absolutely fucking obliterated? The only time anyone in the pack has been under a compliance spell was Derek, and that was because of the Darach, if we don’t count the Nogitsune. Which I _don’t_ since it wasn’t a spell, but a possession.’’

Scott shrugs, unrepentant. ‘’You can’t know for sure you haven’t been mind whammied by either of the Hales. Me and Deaton, we’ve actually been discussing this a lot. He’s really worried about you, about how you suddenly, and without any reason, jumped into their corner.’’  

Stiles growls, ‘’Just because you haven’t noticed I’ve migrated into Derek’s pack instead of yours has nothing to do with Peter or any mind spells. Derek’s my friend, my _alpha_ , because he’s someone I can actually trust to have my back. To be there for the hardships _you_ keep running away from.’’

Scott growls back, fists clenching, ‘’Oh yeah? You think Derek, the _outcast omega_ that he is, is your alpha?’’ He sneers, ‘’Well, _Deaton_ thinks that Derek has shown in the past that _he can’t handle_ the mantle of an alpha, and if he gained it, it wouldn’t be deserved. And I agree with him. I’ve seen how badly Derek reacts to power, how shit of an alpha he is. Doc knew the Hales, you know, with being their emissary and all, and he always says that Talia and Robert would be so disappointed in what Derek has become. There’s a _reason_ he lost his powers and _I_ gained the True Alpha status. There are much greater powers at play than you could even begin to comprehend.’’

Stiles shakes his head with an ugly snort. ‘’Pfft, yeah, you rose to your royal alphaness by the purity of your soul? Like the time you used Derek’s body against his will to kill Gerard, when he specifically _begged_ you not to? Good, utterly innocent and pure times. Or when you sidled with Chris Argent of all people, knowing what they’d done to Derek and his family? Fuck, Victoria tried to kill you and you still blamed absolutely everything on Derek!’’

‘’Derek _did_ kill Victoria,’’ Scott snarls. His shift descends on him, eyes flashing dull red. ‘’Derek is the entire reason why any of us are in this mess to begin with!’’

‘’No,’’ Stiles hisses, stumping his now burnt cigarette. ‘’ Derek _saved you_ from certain death and accidentally bit Victoria too hard because he was _panicking_ . Victoria _killed herself_ instead of turning furry once a month. She did that decision on her own, leaving behind two devastated family members who were such an easy target for Gerard to manipulate. You pushed the blame on Derek, and that’s one of the many reasons Allison went all dark hunter on us for an entire month. You know this! You know Allison captured Erica and Boyd so that her grandpa could torture two innocent teenagers in his basement. _Three_ innocent teenagers. She did it voluntarily, and in semi sane mind, while me and Derek were furiously trying to keep everyone alive. So fuck your morals!’’

‘’Keep Allison out of this,’’ Scott spits. ‘’She was used when she was vulnerable and alone and _hurt_ , so it wasn’t her fault. She did the best she could with the cards she was dealt with. So she hurt Boyd and Erica a little. They’re werewolves, they heal.’’

Stiles laughs, utterly incredulous. ‘’Really? _Really_ ? Werewolves heal? That’s your counter argument? Also, _wow_ , you can accept _Ally_ doing immoral things, but heaven forbid anyone else steps a line out of your black and white world, and suddenly they’re so utterly despicable that you won’t even want to look at them. How about applying that thought to Derek’s situation, where we first met him because we went looking for his sister’s _body_ , and then tell me how awful Derek was when he desperately tried to help us as he was grieving the loss of his sister, while you kept rejecting him for no reason at all except your hatred for all authority figures? You’ve never once even given him a chance to prove himself.’’

‘’Oh, everything’s my fault now, huh? Whose idea was it to go and search for that body to begin with, _huh_?’’

‘’Mine!’’ Stiles shouts. ‘’It was _my fault_ . And I can finally fucking admit to that. I told you how sorry I was when it happened. But you know what I also did, that you didn’t? I fucking went to Derek and I apologized for that shit. For a lot of shit. Sure, it was a year too late, with all that horrible things happening at the same time, but I at least had some common sense to know when I had fucked up, and tried to fix it. Because Derek deserved better than what we gave him, and even my _dad_ agrees with that. The only one with his head so far up his ass not knowing this is you, Scott. Only you. Or you do know this, but you refuse to acknowledge any of it for reasons that aren’t even valid anymore.’’

With a sigh, Stiles deflates, quieting down. ‘’If there was a universe where I could reverse time and not bring you with me, not get you bitten, I would do it. I’d do it in a heartbeat because I know you hate this, I know you didn’t ask for any of this. None of us did. But we play with the cards we’re dealt with, and we’ve both got a super shitty hand. But Derek’s the ace on my sleeve and I will fucking keep him, make him the alpha he deserves to be, regardless of what you think.‘’

‘’All bad things happen whenever Derek is around, but fine,’’ Scott snarls, _‘’Fine_ . If you want to play houses with a murderer then go ahead. If your wish is to be killed painfully in an assumed animal mauling, then by all means, do it. See if I care. But you can bet that I won’t be giving Derek anymore power over anyone else, not ever again. If he turns out one day with red eyes, then I will sic hunters after him, because I _will know_ that he didn’t get them by any way else than murder.’’

Without  giving Stiles any time to respond, the man turns and marches inside. The door to the vet’s bangs so hard it cracks the foundation and sets the alarm off.

Stiles stays there for a couple minutes, fuming, before he composes himself enough and manages to get to his car. He didn’t expect much, but he still held hope.

With a disappointed shake of his head, Stiles sets his wheels towards the loft.

They’re going to have to come up with another plan.

Fuck.

  


~*~

  


Holding Derek’s  hand, Stiles brushes his fingers gently over the man’s wrist. Peter is dozing on the other side of Derek, keeping him warm. The moon is softly shining down on them, everything glowing in whites.

‘’Is there any way to get his spark back without making Scott a beta?’’ he asks, looking up to Adalgisa. She’s sitting in the corner chair, small yellow lamp giving her some light to read.

She shakes her head. ‘’It is not meant to be separate for so long. Ultimately, the alpha spark needs to be in the hands of its true holder, and leaving fragments of it in others will only break it in the long run.’’

Stiles lets out a trembling breath. ‘’Any other ritual we could use to get Scott to be an alpha, but giving back Derek’s family spark?’’

Adalgisa shakes her head. ‘’You need to either inherit the powers, or kill for them. I am sorry for it.’’

‘’Not your fault,’’ Stiles mumbles.

He’ll just have to research some more. Find an alternative solution. Think outside the box.

Something, _anything_ to get them out of this stalemate.

  
  


~*~

  


As Peter steps into the loft some couple days later, his bespoke suit impeccable apart from the blood staining his shoes, Stiles raises his head from the pile of papers he’d been resting it on.

‘’What have you been up to behind our backs?’’

Peter smirks. ‘’Keeping us safe,’’ he says vaguely, toeing off said shoes.

Stiles stares at the reddened leather, how the blood seems seeped into the very core of it, staining the material. ‘’That’s gonna be a bitch to get rid of.’’

‘’I’ll buy new ones. Derek would smell the blood regardless of how much I would try cleaning them. And I think he doesn’t need to worry his head with whatever mess I’m handling.’’

‘’You do know he hates the secrets and the lies the most, rather than having the hard, straight truth?’’ Stiles asks with a raised brow.

‘’Mm,’’ Peter hums. ‘’I know. But I also know he’s very exhausted, and running on fumes only. I’ll explain things to him once all of this blows over.’’

Letting Peter pet his head as the man saunters past him, Stiles sighs. ‘’Just be sure to do it, and not ‘accidentally’ forget about it. And I, too, am curious of your doings, for the record.’’

‘’Your complaint is duly noted.’’

‘’Asshole,’’ Stiles mutters to Peter’s retreating back. ‘’Just let me know if you need any backup, okay?’’

There’s only happy whistling as an lieu of an answer, which makes Stiles shake his head and bury himself back into the research.

  
  


~*~

  


It is some five days after the ritual, as Peter and Stiles are intensely going through archive from archive, heads buried in piles of books and notes, when Derek walks out of his room for the first time on his own. It looks like he’s having difficulties coordinating his steps, eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight the large windows bathe the room in, but he’s steady, and most importantly, standing by himself.

‘’Hey,’’ he softly greets the two of them, leaning against the back of the sofa for a little support.

‘’Hey, big guy,’’ Stiles greets warmly, jumping up. ‘’You feeling better already?’’

Derek nods, rubbing his eye. ‘’Starving,’’ he says.

Dropping the papers he’s scouring through with a sigh, Peter stands up as well. ‘’I find myself a little peckish as well. Stir fry?’’

‘’Yes, please and thank you,’’ Stiles says, picking up a couple notes he’s made. He follows Derek and Peter to the kitchen, where Peter crowds Derek for a moment, scent marking him, before letting the wolf sit down.

‘’Have you two been researching this entire time?’’ Derek asks as he claims one chair.

‘’Sort of,’’ Stiles says, pushing his papers towards Derek. ‘’We’ve come to the conclusion that we can’t actually rip the alpha powers away from Scott, no matter how much we’d want to do that, since it might actually kill him. The ritual or spell or whatever would actually require his consent, full consent, which he won’t give. So plan A has been buried. Plan B, C, and D were pretty good, but overall were mostly useless in our situation.’’

Taking his Wok pan, Peter agrees grimly. ‘’I’ve contacted some informants from Europe that may have some ideas for us, but ultimately, it looks like we may not be able to get back the Hale spark.’’

Derek frowns, rather upset at that. It’s his fault to begin with that his alpha spark is no longer within the family, and the idea of it staying with Scott for who knows how long is a painful thought to entertain.

Stiles huffs a tired breath. ‘’What he said. I mean, we wouldn’t have any problems at all if Deaton wasn’t meddling in this, but as long as he is, Scott’s alpha spark is unattainable. I uh, I actually went to see Scott a couple days ago. Got a chance to really look into him as we talked, and Deaton’s spell is very strong on him.’’

‘’You can’t dismantle it?’’

Stiles shakes his head. ‘’Not this sort of organic spell. Deaton, he’s. . . Sort of interwoven his and Scott’s inherent magic together, which means that if I tried to break the spell, either or both might actually die.’’

Nodding, Derek pulls at his sleeves as he goes over Stiles’ notes. ‘’So we can’t touch the alpha spark.’’

‘’Nope.’’

Derek hums, blinking rather drowsily at the papers. Stiles has marked down all sorts of ideas from the bestiary. From getting Scott to accidentally drop back to beta, to making him another were-creature that doesn’t hold structural power positions. _Kill Deaton_ has been underlined and then overlined, and then written down three more times before they’ve been marked over.

‘’Could we make him a human again?’’ Derek ponders aloud absently, reading another page. There’s a spell there that would make a druid weaker for a crescent moon, making them close to human, forcing them to drop their spells for the duration of the night.

Stiles blinks at him from the other side of the table. ‘’I mean. . . I don’t know if there’s a spell that could do that? I’ve never looked into it, since Deaton told us that turning back to human was basically impossible, but. . . ‘’

‘’But we shouldn’t trust the man’s word, not regarding this issue,’’ Peter nods. ‘’I haven’t heard of any other way than killing the alpha that turned you, but I haven’t actually paid the issue any mind, since I don’t find being a werewolf is anything other than natural.’’

Derek offers the notes back to Stiles. ‘’Perhaps alpha Gunilda might know?’’

Shrugging, Stiles sweeps out his phone. ‘’Can’t hurt to ask.’’

  


~*~

 

‘’You. Are. _Shitting_ . Me,’’ Stiles explodes, ignoring the gross display of animal corpses being fed off of. ‘’There was a solution to Scott’s furry problem this entire time, and I’m only gaining information on this _now_?’’

Friederike looks apologetic. ‘’It hadn’t crossed my mind, young emissary. Turning your friend back to human is not impossible, though it requires a quite a bit of magic and patience. And even if he did want to turn his back on his magical side and become a mundane again, it wouldn’t necessarily mean that the alpha spark will return to the Hales. It’s a very big possibility, but not one hundred percent certain.’’

Slumping back to the huge sofa, Stiles blows out a huge sigh. Derek catches him easily, pulling him closer for warmth. The heater inside the warehouse broke just last night, and the temperature has dropped significantly, since the building stands always in shadows.

‘’This also doesn’t mean Scott will say yes, now, knowing the powers may return to me,’’ Derek says, earning a glare from Stiles.

‘’Well, yeah, no shit. But it’s Scott’s dream, literally, to be away from Beacon Hills and the supernatural, but he can’t do that to his pack. His wolf is too territorial, and even spending time with his dad in Honolulu had him on edge the entire time. Settling somewhere in a big city where he can’t establish a ground for himself? Impossible.’’

Derek doesn’t quite agree with that. ‘’Not impossible, if he had control. Me and Laura did it, and many others are doing it. It’s just. . .’’

‘’Scott,’’ Stiles finishes lamely. ‘’He and his lack of control. I mean, god, his anchor is Allison, so of course he has some semblance of control, but he does need a territory. He won’t last otherwise, and I’d hate if anything happened to Allison if the two fought.’’

‘’She can protect herself.’’

‘’Yeah, but she shouldn’t have to. I don’t have to be able to protect myself from you or Peter, do I? When you get mad you never even flash your eyes at me, but Scott tends to shift even when he’s just slightly upset or frustrated,’’ Stiles says.

Gunilda shrugs at the conversation. ‘’Easiest solution is to kill the druid. It wouldn’t harm your friend, other than dissolving the spell and making him an omega. Another one would be to strip him from his magic altogether.’’

‘’We can’t just result to murder,’’ Stiles mutters. ‘’My dad wouldn’t approve. And you need the druidic council to remove someone’s magic entirely, since I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to learn anything such as that in just mere couple weeks.’’

‘’But you wouldn’t be opposed to killing Deaton,’’ Peter purrs to him. ‘’A means to an end.’’

Stiles shrugs. He’s always been rather morally ambiguous when it comes to protecting the people he loves.

Peter smirks. ‘’And, well, there is something I haven’t discussed with the lot of you that will most certainly make you change your minds about the fate of our dear, lonely veterinarian. Might even sway your father’s opinion to our favour, if he is so inclined to join us.’’

Derek immediately narrows his eyes. He may not be good with words, nor the quick witted thinking both Peter and Stiles possess, but he’s far from stupid. ‘’Is this about the blood stains on your clothes and the odd disappearances within the past week?’’

Peter doesn’t look surprised that he’s figured something out, but rather affectionate. ‘’Yes, dear nephew, this does indeed concern my absence in the past few days.’’

Adalgisa hums, eyeballing the two wolves. She cocks her head, ‘’Is it the hunters that we’ve been keeping an eye on?’’

Stiffening, Derek glares at his uncle. _‘’What hunters?’’_

‘’Hunters,’’ Peter drawls hungrily, eyes sparkling with excitement, ‘’That have been circling our preserve, just beyond the pretty wards you have set up with Stiles. It seems that they have some inside information on the position and placement of the stones, and they’re skillfully walking the fine line of it.’’

‘’How the hell do they know about my wards?’’ Stiles exclaims. ‘’They’re so well hidden that only another magic user would be able to . . .’’ Realization dawns on his face. ‘’Oh, that _son of a bitch.’’_

 _‘’Mm-hm_!’’ Peter nods. ‘’Indeed. Our dear vet has been scoping out our perimeter quite strategically. He’s no doubt made a layout out of our territory, probably intending to weaken the wards by making some of the stones disappear. An oddly convenient coincidence that there are hunters circling us at the same time.’’

‘’Oh, it doesn’t work that way, dude. The stones aren’t the ones holding the actual wards up, you know? They’re only placemarkers. They’re full of potent magic, true, but it’s only so that I’m able to track them if animals start playing with them and losing them. The wards are ingrained to the earth underneath, marked by the stones so I won’t forget where I’ve set them,’’ Stiles explains.

Peter cocks his head, mouth stretching into a wide smile. ‘’Clever boy,’’ he murmurs, which Derek is inclined to agree with. ‘’But regardless of how it actually works, that is how Deaton thinks it works. And as it stands, I want him to think exactly that.’’

‘’You have an actual plan then?’’ Derek asks dubiously.

Peter grins. ‘’Yes, I do,’’ he bows, his canines sharp and wicked. ‘’I do indeed. And now I need to negotiate it with _you_.’’

  
  


~*~

 

Later that night, when Stiles has settled himself into the corner of the sofa and is dozing off, Derek goes about to find his uncle.

Things are moving ahead faster than he could’ve imagined, and he’s rather reserved about his possible future mantle as the head of the pack, especially when things between him and Peter are so awkward. He finds his uncle from the balcony, the wolf staring up at the stars. There’s smoke coming from between his parted lips, Peter having found Stiles’ pack of cigarettes.

‘’I didn’t know you smoke,’’ Derek says, closing the balcony door with a soft click.

‘’I don’t,’’ Peter answers. ‘’At least not regularly. Stiles has a wicked influence to the people around him.’’

‘’I’d say so,’’ Derek says, settling beside the other man. ‘’He really should stop smoking though.’’

‘’Mm,’’ Peter hums.

They stand in silence for a long moment, just staring at the bright night sky. Peter is slightly warmer than Derek, his temperature running higher with Derek still so weak, and he’s helplessly drawn to that warmth. Peter, sensing Derek’s thoughts, sways closer, until they’re flush against each other, side by side.

‘’I didn’t know you and Chris Argent were friends,’’ Derek says eventually, breaking the silence. Peter’s plan from last night had been almost perfectly thought out, and the sudden participation of Chris had raised some questioning eyebrows.

‘’Once we share a common enemy, we tend to orbit near to each other,’’ Peter answers honestly.

Derek blinks. ‘’And these last six months the enemy was. . . ?’’

Regarding his nephew carefully, Peter answers after a short pause, ‘’Kate Argent and her friends.’’

His brain coming to a screeching halt, Derek freezes. ”But she’s dead,” he blurts out. She can’t have resurrected herself again, not this time. Her body was burned to _ashes_.

”Yes, she is,” Peter agrees. ‘’But her friends aren’t. Well. Hm. Weren’t.’’

‘’I don’t understand,’’ Derek says, gripping the metal rail of the balcony.

The man blows out a small billow of smoke. ‘’Some six months ago I got a surprise call from Chris. He doesn’t usually even text, he just sends me these horribly boring and detailed emails regarding the hunter activity around Beacon Hills. He knows Scott doesn’t share information with us, so, as a peace offering, he’s been keeping me up to date with things from his side,’’ his uncle explains. ‘’His presence here keeps most other families away from the town, but there’s a some sort of council of hunters that likes to come and vet things out every once in awhile. See if he’s doing his duty.’’

Derek nods to show that he’s listening. He’s just not sure if he wants to know where his uncle is going with this. He has a terrifying hunch though.

‘’He always keeps his messages neat and professional. Never makes contact with me other than that, since it would be rather dangerous for him if someone found out,’’ Peter continues, though wraps an arm around Derek’s middle, keeping him firmly in place. ‘’Except this time. He called directly to my phone and asked to talk to _you_.’’

Derek doesn’t dare to even breathe. ‘’Why didn’t he call me on my phone?’’

‘’Because he knew you would go alone to him, and you wouldn’t tell anyone about the encounter. Even if you would’ve needed someone with you.’’

‘’What did he say?’’ Derek asks warily.

A spicy, electric smell of Peter’s fury starts to swirl into his scent. ‘’His friend had caught a video circulating in the community. He’d recognized Kate from it, but not the young boy with her, and sent the video to Chris, warning him. The video had the potential to ruin the Argent reputation for good.’’

Derek almost suffocates on the bile that rises up into his throat. He tries to take a few steps back, to gain distance from his uncle. The man’s claws prick at his soft jumper, felt through the fabric. He’s stuck.

He’s _never_ , _ever_ told his history with Kate to anyone. Stiles had somehow figured it out from the police files, even if Derek has no idea how he did that. He’s been content with carrying the guilt with him for the rest of his life, burning with self hatred and selfishness in not wanting to reveal his secret, in hopes of getting to keep the little family he has left, close. He would’ve gladly broken under the weight of his guilt one day, just to hopefully die in the hands of the monster of the week while saving someone else’s life. Preferably taking the knowledge of his and Kate’s relationship into his grave.

But now. Now Peter _knows_.

‘’Derek,’’ Peter says softly, not letting him go. ‘’Stop.’’

‘’There’s a - a- a - ‘’ Derek chokes, fear and shame and disgust filling his chest. _When_ ? When did Kate set up a camera and _where_ ? ‘’A _video_ \- ‘’

‘’Not anymore,’’ Peter says firmly. ‘’There’s not a trace of it left. Not a single gigabyte.’’

‘’How?’’ Derek asks, losing his breath. The panic is building, blindsiding him too fast, overwhelming him. He tries to wriggle out of Peter’s hold, but the older man is stronger, more composed. _What did she film? Which shameful part of their relationship did she secretly manage to capture for her friends to see? Did they laugh about it? Did they watch it in the aftermath of the fire and_ enjoy _what they saw? What part of it did Peter get a glimpse of?_

‘’I’ve been rather hard to get a hold of, haven’t I?’’ Peter asks somberly, forcing Derek to sit down with his head between his legs. He goes down on his knees as well, right in front of his nephew. ‘’You needn’t know the gruesome details, but you may rest reassured that none of the people who were in possession of that particular video are alive. I even recruited Daniel to look into destroying any and all existing copies from the computers of said hunters, as well as to track and destroy the video should it surface on the internet.’’

‘’Danny?’’ Derek asks thinly.

‘’Yes, Danny. He didn’t see anything of the footage, apart from the glimpses he was forced to when he deleted the files from multiple different computers and servers. He’s sworn to absolute secrecy over this, so you needn't worry.’’

Derek concentrates into breathing for a moment, trying to get his lungs to cooperate into accepting air. Peter’s hand keeps steadily pushing his head down by the back of his neck, a warm, reassuring presence.

‘’Aren’t you angry?’’ he whispers after getting himself back in some semblance of control.

‘’I’m absolutely fucking furious,’’ Peter spits, finally revealing the anger beneath the calm demeanor. It makes Derek flinch. ‘’If I thought I could’ve gotten any of them into jail for being in possession of child pronography, I would’ve handed them over to the authorities. Get them the death and beatings they’d deserved in jail from fellow mundanes. But as you shift into your beta form in the recording, it wouldn’t hold in court since we can’t expose our kind to humans. So I made sure I killed them slowly, and painfully, made them aware just exactly why they were being gutted.’’

‘’And me?’’ Derek asks, his voice barely audible. It’s hard to wrap his mind around it. _His uncle has seen him with Kate_ . Has seen his shame when he refuses, because _he’s not ready yet_ , because he’s only fourteen when she starts her preying and she just laughs, and calls him a sweet puppy and forces him to -

His uncle _knows_.

There’s a pause, before Peter shifts beside him, forcing his head up. ‘’Derek,’’ he says with a blank expression, ‘’Why would I be angry with _you_?’’

‘’Bec - ‘’ he loses his breath, fear clogging his throat. Peter deserves to hear it from his mouth. It’s the truth after all. ‘’Because I killed our - ‘’

Peter’s clawed hand comes to clamp over his mouth, shutting him up. _‘’No_ ,’’ he denies, vehement. ‘’You do _not_ mean to tell me that you have been living all these years thinking I blame you for the death of our family. Tell me this isn’t true.’’

With red rimmed eyes, Derek gazes helplessly back into the stormy stare of his uncle.

‘’Derek!’’ Peter demands, but Derek can only squeeze his eyes shut in hurt and shame.

With a snarl, Peter wrenches Derek into a painful, yet warm embrace, his claws pricking at his scalp where his uncle presses Derek’s face into his throat. ‘’You stupid, _stupid_ boy. How could I ever possibly blame a child for being manipulated by a skilled professional adult, when the adults in your _own_ family didn’t realize what was going on? I, as the left hand, and Hector as the right hand should shoulder this blame, your _mother_ should shoulder this blame, but _you_ ? A _child_ , Derek. You were a _child_ . _Fourteen years old,_ for christ sake!’’

Futilely blinking back the tears that try to fall, Derek swallows a sob.

Peter doesn’t say anything further, but keeps his arms engulfed around Derek’s body, holding him through the shivers and the silent, shaky breaths. He feels small in Peter’s arms, suddenly not at all the twenty five year old he is supposed to be. He’s lived with the guilt for so long that this sort of weight suddenly dropping from his shoulders is far too much for his overwrung mind. His uncle doesn’t hate him. His uncle is holding him again, speaking to him again. A small bud of hope starts to unfurl in his cracked heart, which is dangerous.

He’s lost his hope too many times. One more, and he might not survive it.

‘’I am sorry, nephew,’’ Peter murmurs eventually, when the worst of Derek’s trembling has settled. His arms have loosened to something secure and gentle, instead of being punishingly tight. ‘’It seems that no matter what, the adults in your life keep failing you over and over.’’

‘’Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?’’ Derek asks, voice thick. ‘’Why did you keep ignoring me when I - I - ‘’ _Needed you._

A gentle press of lips warms his forehead, followed by a gusty sigh. ‘’Murdering well known hunters for six months straight had me in a pinch a lot of the time. My calls were being traced, my debit cards monitored, cars destroyed. I gained intelligence from Chris about the general gossip of the hunter community, and I knew they were watching you very carefully for any kind of interaction between us. I decided to cut contact with you so you wouldn’t get in trouble for my sake.’’

‘’But you answered Stiles’ call immediately,’’ Derek says, trying not to sound accusing.

‘’I did. His call came in just as I finished the last of my targets. I was literally wiping blood from my claws when I got his number flashing on the screen. I was always going to come back after I finished, and Stiles’ call gave me incentive to hurry up and drop the last computers to Daniel to deal with, before I could make my entrance.’’

The confession takes the last of Derek’s fight from him, making his body go lax in Peter’s arms. He’s about to open his mouth to ask his uncle to _never_ cut him out like that again, but before he has a chance, the balcony door opens.

‘’If you guys are gonna have a cuddle fest, invite me too,’’ Stiles slurs drowsily from above them.

‘’I’d rather not, but I can hand Derek over so you two can continue,’’ Peter says, letting Derek go.

Stiles frowns sleepily. ‘’Wha, ‘m I not good enough for you?’’

‘’Of course you are,’’ Peter says exasperatedly. ‘’But not my type. Alas, you can have my nephew.’’

‘’Oh,’’ Stiles nods in acceptance. ‘’That’s nice.’’

Derek snorts, getting up and helping Peter to his feet too. Neither of the other men comment on his red eyes, nor the flushed cheeks he has, but he does get situated onto the sofa with Stiles cuddling up to him while Peter draws a blanket over them. Stiles flicks on _Brooklyn Nine Nine_ which he knows Derek loves, and settles down.

‘’I’ll be in my flat if you need me,’’ Peter says with a last ruffle of Derek’s hair. ‘’I still have a lot of things to do before we can actually commence our plan. You can reach me on my cell, and I’ll be sure to answer.’’

‘’Thanks Peter,’’ Derek whispers. ‘’For everything.’’

Peter offers him a small, rare smile. ‘’Anytime, nephew. Anytime.’’

  


~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your overwhelmingly positive feedback! I see you all that follow my updates regularly, I absolutely adore all of you so much! Thank you for being my little cheerleaders and I hope to deliver some more updates to older fics that I've noticed people have begged for second chapters, hehe... ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Um, I'm very sorry this chapter has taken so long, and that I'm still not finished. I've rewritten and rewritten the confrontation scene over and over and over, because I'm just not happy with it, at all. I feel like it might be a lot too gory for some readers... But you were asking, so I wanted to at least give you something, so here's another 10K of this story ;u; 
> 
> I won't take another six months to finally offer you the ending, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to wait for the final reveal for a little bit longer. I apologize profusely ;n;
> 
> I hope you enjoy this and THANK YOU so much for your support! You guys are my world ;u;
> 
> ps: Derek gets a vivid flashback of Kate in this chapter, so if that upsets you, please refrain from reading after Peter asks Derek to _be good._

 

 

Derek surfaces briefly into consciousness in the small hours of the morning. His arms are tingly and numb where they’re trapped underneath Stiles’ slack frame, feeling sweaty and a little uncomfortable. 

Brain fuzzy, he wonders for a moment what woke him up. It isn’t unusual for him. Although being safe and secure for years, he still tends to startle himself awake two-three times a night. The apartment is quiet and familiar in its slumber, darkness blanketing them both.

He sighs. Sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever be able to sleep through an entire night without waking once. Usually his AC provides enough background noise that he doesn’t focus on the sounds coming from the outside.

Though now that he thinks about it, the AC is unusually silent. He manages only to slightly crane his neck up to check it and sees its service light blinking red. He groans quietly, needing a moment to psych himself to get up, when there’s a sudden low hiss with the sound of a circuit zapping, followed by the static hum of every electrical machine shutting down simultaneously. Just a low whoosh that drops the entire building into complete silence. 

Blinking tiredly, rather reluctant to leave the warmth of Stiles pressing against him under the blanket, he looks around. The apartment is blacked out, his surroundings barely visible in the darkness. With all electronics turned off, the slow heartbeats, fabric rustling, the quiet sleep-talks from below his apartment, they all seem rather. . . Loud in his ears now. If he was so inclined, he could probably tell who all are home at the moment.

He lets out a slow breath. Minutes trickle by as he gently caresses Stiles’ arm, waiting. Power-cuts aren’t all that uncommon in the area, with all the industrial power around them. The Daily Beacon printing press has frequent fires with their equipment. The electricity should come  back within minutes.

As he waits, letting his eyes wander, he manages to see the outlines of the coffee table in front of them, as well as the doorway to the kitchen, but not much else. There isn’t enough light, even for a werewolf. There’s only the soft, illuminating orange glow from outside.

Derek lets his eyes fall back shut, wondering absently whether or not he should get up to check on the fusebox. Stiles’ heartbeat is slow and steady, and Derek finds himself breathing deeply to match it. The man is deep in his slumber, body lax and heavy within Derek’s embrace. The steady rhythm is something he always seeks out, the familiar _thump-thu-thump_ luring him in. His focus on that almost makes him miss the noise of a soft _pop_ , and the following _whoosh_ that comes from just outside the hallway. 

He catches it though, and it makes him still.

He flashes his eyes back open and cocks his head. It takes the spare generator usually some time to kick into gear, some days as long as five minutes. Has it been that long since everything shut down? Derek shuffles himself a little bit, focusing on the sounds coming from the building. Even the elevators, which are powered by a different generator, aren’t running. Which is. . . Alarming.

Derek frowns. Could both generators suffer an electrical failure at the same time? It has never happened before.

A little more alert now, he gently pries Stiles off, settling the man back down onto the sofa. He looks around, hearkening his surroundings as he tucks Stiles in. 

None of the other residents have woken up, the whole building slumbering still. There are people in the streets though, when he strains himself to listen, and he hears some commotion from somewhere nearby. Checking his phone, he can see the 3:32 AM blinking steadily at him.

Quietly, Derek makes his way to the windows. There’s an ominous gut feeling in his stomach, and the closer to the window he gets, the more uncomfortable he feels. There’s an odd crackling sound coming from somewhere, a somewhat familiar noise that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. When he approaches the window, he pushes the curtain aside and peeks out.

The air in his lungs disappears.

The yellow glow he noticed earlier is hardly from the streetlights. It seems that an entire block of his part of the town has been cut off from the electrical power, the buildings he can easily see all dark in the distance. Instead, tall flames lick the walls of the building, _his building_ , a sea of fire roaring around them. The whole complex is engulfed in its entirety, the blaze rapidly growing in size the more it consumes in its way upwards.

Derek staggers back.

He can hear it clearly now. The whoosh of flames that are swallowing every piece of surface it reaches, the smoke thick and heavy as it swirls up into the sky. The crackle and sizzling as the fire eats everything in its path, the thunderous hum it makes as the walls of the house start to crack from the heat.

He counts his fingers.

It’s not a nightmare.

Clumsily, Derek trips backwards, towards the sofa as fast as he can. Stiles whines when Derek reaches to shake him.  He slurs something intangible, weakly slapping Derek’s hands away.

Throat clogged with fear, Derek doesn’t manage any words. He can feel the temperature starting to rise too quickly within the apartment, his shirt soaked in sweat. It’s all happening so fast. _Too fast_. Instead, he hauls Stiles up by his armpits, forcing him instantly awake.

‘’Wh’t the - !’’ Stiles gasps in confusion, grabbing feebly onto Derek’s shoulders for purchase. He blinks rapidly to bring his equilibrium back, the world tilting dizzyingly. ‘’What the hell! What the _fuck_ do you thnk y’r doin’?’’

Derek growls, flashing his eyes at the human. His canines are thick in his mouth, his ears hearkening as his shift takes over.  In the lower floors, fire alarms start blaring.

‘’What!’’ Stiles demands, getting his wits about him, digging his nails into Derek’s skin. He senses something wrong, but is too angry to be concerned about it this second. ‘’What is _wrong_ with you? And _no_ , that’s _not_ rhetorical.’’ He rubs at his eyes with one hand as he glances Derek up and down, sees his clothes clinging to his frame. ‘’Why are you so sweaty?’’

Derek can’t speak. His hands are shaking as he lowers the human on the floor, letting Stiles find his footing. Refusing to let go, he supports Stiles as much as he’s clinging to him, his instincts screaming at him to _protect_ and _run_ and _hide_ but there’s just nowhere to go. No secret tunnel to retreat into, no game plan to fight the hunters that are awaiting them below with their guns and wolfsbane bombs. No escape from the fury of fire that has taken _everything_ from him.

And the _sounds_. Some of the residents are waking up to the smoke detectors blaring in their apartments. The panicked  screams and breathy moans of despair are too familiar. Too big of an echo of his past. It’s almost like he’s right there with the ghosts of his family, the pressure of the heat building inside the whole complex, flames roaring as they consume everything in sight.

Stiles seems to realize something is seriously wrong on his own when Derek is unable to speak, noting just how warm their apartment is, and how his own wards are practically screaming in alert. 

 ‘’What- ‘’ he starts, trying to peek over Derek’s shoulder to see his own handiwork on the door, but doesn’t finish, when the windows suddenly explode in.

Working by instinct, Derek jumps to cover Stiles, forcing them into a painful tumble on the floor. Stiles curses, ducking his head so it doesn’t hit anywhere critical. Derek covers for him, cradling the human in his arms.

‘’Fuck, Derek, what the fuck is going on?’’ Stiles shouts, squirming. ‘’What is that fucking sound, is that - ‘’ The human stills, eyes widening as he finally catches the sight of the flames licking the whites of the window sill, the thick smoke finally finding its way inside the apartment. ‘’Fire,’’ Stiles breathes, clinging to Derek. ‘’The building is on fire, isn’t it? Oh my god, is this an attack? Are we under attack right now?’’

Closing his eyes shut, Derek nods. He tries to stay calm, to take deep breaths, but the thick, poisoned cloud of smoke makes him cough. He pays little mind to himself though, his main priority being getting Stiles out of there with all limbs intact. That’s all he has to focus on. Not - Not the screams, or the horribly loud roar of the flames or the way flesh _sizzles_ when it’s being burned - 

‘’Hey. Hey, everything’s okay, big guy, it’s okay,’’ Stiles suddenly soothes, his long, trembling limbs wrapping around Derek’s shoulders. He makes Derek meet his eyes, ignoring the wheezing panic of Derek’s lungs. ‘’We’re okay. _Easy_ , just keep breathing. We’re going to get out of here. Okay? Don’t - Don’t, if there’s anyone downstairs, don’t listen to them. Just focus on me, okay? Just you and me.’’

Derek chokes on his next breath, trying to form words, and fails. He nods again instead. Just him and Stiles. 

For a moment, Stiles catalogs his expression. He seems to accept what he finds there, because the next thing Derek knows, he’s being hauled in for a tight, desperate hug. Derek returns it ferociously, unsure whether or not it might be the last hug he’ll ever get from him. Stiles seems not to want to linger though, his scent, where Derek catches traces of it from between the thick smoke, is determined as he extracts himself, saying, ‘’Okay?’’

In response, Derek lets Stiles slide down from his lap and they both stagger up, supporting each other. Derek catalogues Stiles as best as he can, making sure none of the shards managed to nick him. He can’t smell anything but the thick, acrid scent of smoke, so he can’t sniff out Stiles’ injuries like usual. 

Stiles _looks_ terrified, if otherwise still unharmed. He’s starting to sweat too, beads of it sliding down his white cheeks, and the long of his neck. His grip is steady though, his voice hard. ‘’We’re gonna be okay. We’re not gonna die here, Derek. Trust me. This is  _not_ how we’re gonna go down.’’

There’s a distant rumble, before the building starts to shake ominously. 

‘’That - ‘’ Stiles breathes, staring at Derek with wide eyes, ‘’Can _not_ be a good sign.’’

Derek’s breath stutters. ‘’Yeah,’’ he chokes out. He can hear the strain the structure is under, and how it’s slowly starting to collapse. 

‘’C’mon,’’ Stiles says determinedly, dragging Derek to the bedroom, away from the open windows of the living room. He’s starting to cough too. ‘’We need to put on some clothes and get out of here. Let me - Let me think of a game plan for a minute, okay? I need to, just, just focus for a  moment.’’

Derek nods, shakily gathering up their clothes and any weapons he thinks Stiles might find useful. He takes his duffle bag and stashes the last remaining pictures of his family he’s managed to salvage, as well as Laura’s necklace, in it. 

‘’You should wear denim jeans and your leather jacket,’’ Stiles says as he digs into the deep corners of Derek’s closet, pulling out two old denim jackets. He puts on the smaller one, _Laura’s one_ , Derek’s mind supplies hysterically, and hands Derek the other. ‘’They’re pretty durable and inflammable, and if they get singed, they at least burn super slowly. And we need all the extra time we can get.’’

Derek blinks at the information, but doesn’t question it. He thinks that the oxfords Peter picked for him weren’t just for their good looks then. His uncle might have looked into things a bit more in depthly than Derek, not wanting a repeat performance of the past - 

Shit. _Peter_.

He makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat. ‘’Stiles, we -’’ He coughs, eyes stinging. ‘’ _Peter_. If the hunters are here, they must be targeting Peter too.’’

Looking like he’s been struck, Stiles swears, pulling his phone out of his pocket. The dial tone comes almost immediately, and Peter picks up on the first ring. 

_‘’What’s wrong?’’_

‘’Hunters,’’ Stiles replies with a rattling cough, endlessly relieved that Peter sounds like he’s fine. ‘’They’ve - they’ve set our building on fire. Are you - Where are you? Are you okay?’’

 _‘’What?’’_ Peter snarls, clearly scrambling up from somewhere. _‘’What do you mean your building is on fire? Are you out?’’_

The building creaks. Derek swallows, looking up at the ceiling. They don’t have much time left.

‘’No, we’re still inside,’’ Stiles replies, zipping up. ‘’We’re pretty sure there are hunters surrounding the base, with their weapons ready.’’ He looks at Derek in askance for it, to which the wolf nods confirmation. 

‘’I heard gun - ‘’ _cough_ , ‘’Gunshots. A moment ago,’’ Derek croaks. 

Stiles grimaces. ‘’Derek says there’s been some sort of shootout already. The hunters might be shooting anything that tries to exit, and I think we might be in a little bit of a pinch because of that. But I have a, uh, sort of a, half plan? I guess? To get us both out. We just wanted to check that they hadn’t tried to kill you off too.’’

 _‘’I’m on my way,’’_ Peter snaps, before the line goes dead. Derek is almost dead certain that his uncle has just left his own apartment downtown in his wolf fur.

‘’Well, Peter’s fine and on his way with the cavalry. Guess it’s just you and me now, huh, big guy?’’ Stiles says, pushing his phone back into his pocket. He grabs one of Isaac’s old scarves that Derek hasn’t had the heart to throw out, and puts it around his face, covering his mouth and nose. He looks at Derek and then back at the living room where the tides of fire crashing against the walls can be heard. ‘’I guess there’s only one way to get us out of here.’’

 

.

.

.

.

  


Derek breathes deeply in. The smoke is thick and black, swirling around them as wind spreads it further. The drop is long, with large flames roaring mindlessly underneath. Derek can feel the searing heat already starting to blister his skin, the wolfsbane mixed in making it burn even worse. 

‘’Just remember, big guy. All you have to do is get us down,’’ Stiles mumbles through the fabric. He’s calm, collected. There’s not an ounce of fear in Stiles’ scent anymore, his confidence in his own abilities, as well as Derek’s, is unwavering. ‘’I’ll take care of the hunters. Just get us far enough from the heart of the fire.’’

With a long exhale, Derek nods, adjusting Stiles on his back. He covers his own mouth. All he has to do is get away. That’s all he has to do.

‘’Ready?’’ Stiles asks, gripping tighter.

‘’Ready,’’ Derek confirms, nosing Stiles cheek for one last time.

And then he jumps.

  


.

.

.

.

  
  


The heat is almost unbearable. It burns horribly, the skin of his cheeks aching. Blisters appear almost instantly, splitting the skin, revealing the muscle beneath. His eyes dry up immediately, tears forming in the corners. He wants to rub them. He keeps rapidly blinking instead.  

The walls crumble apart with him, as he tries to slow down the fall by clawing at the plaster.

He mostly manages. 

The tips of his fingers, his claws, bleed and snap as he holds on, the roaring inferno underneath him explodes greedily, sucking them in. He lets gravity do the work.

Derek closes his eyes.

And falls.

 

.

.

.

.

  


Both of his legs shatter on impact, his knees snapping neatly in half. Stiles’ weight pins him to the ground as he crumbles, his head exploding with pain as it hits the ground. He thinks he might scream. 

He thinks Stiles screams too.

The agony is near impossible to comprehend. He can’t move, can’t see where the enemy is, where the attack will come. He feels like the attack is coming from _everywhere_ , burning him, _branding_ him, like he’s the faulty live cattle and now he’s about to be slaughtered.

All he sees are the large flames gobbling up everything, his jacket and his scarf catching on fire. His skin is weeping and peeling off, blood and pus trickling down onto the ground, the mountain ash preventing him from healing. It’s in his lungs, in his eyes, invading all of his orifices, the wounds in his hands. His heart is galloping, up in his throat. Like a living thing, it races in time with the adrenaline in his veins, a hummingbird trying to fly apart from his chest in fear.

There’s just not enough _air_ - 

Vaguely, he registers gunshots around him, as his body seizures from the wolfsbane overdose. He writhes and wheezes, trying to get the weight on his back to disappear. His lungs rattle as he tries to catch some air, his chest heavy and impossibly full, but there’s too much smoke and his throat is swollen and useless and it’s such _agony_ -

Something explodes against his side. 

And then it’s dark again.

  
  


~*~

  


The hospital is blissfully quiet.

 

John’s hand is warm and calloused where it’s holding onto Derek’s arm. He stares down at the bandaged limb blankly. There’s white fabric going up and down the entire of his arm, down to his fingers and up to his shoulders. If he looks far enough to the side, he can see the edges of some bandaging even on his face.

It reminds him a lot what Peter used to look like, in the week of the aftermath of the fire. When Laura was too distraught to think of leaving, when organizing care and hospitalization to Peter was her top priority. When she’d leave Derek with their uncle, in that cold, bleak private room, being away hours at a time taking care of legal matters in the only way an eighteen year old could. Back then, Peter was wrapped from head to toe, the burns too severe to be exposed to anything. When they’d kept his uncle sedated, and then, when his healing didn’t trigger the way it was supposed to, forced Peter into a medically induced coma. 

Even Derek’s pleas for his uncle to wake up didn’t get him to come back. And he did. He begged every single day that first week, for Peter to open his eyes and just - Just _live_ . Move, walk, talk, _please_. Derek used to take so much of Peter’s pain away that he’d fall asleep in a delirious state of agony as all of his veins turned black. And Laura was away too much to even notice, much less be inclined to do anything about it.

Everything had smelled of the same they did now. Like desperation, and infection, and blood. Burnt skin. Medication and disinfectant. Not tears though. This time there wasn’t much to cry about, if Derek even could. There’s not much of him that isn’t somehow wrecked by the fall. Not healing, thanks to the mountain ash in the smoke and the fire, and he won’t heal anyway, not before he gets an antidote for it. 

And besides. He deserves this pain. He _deserves_ to ache and hurt and not heal, as the burns splinter and tear through his body. It’s only right for him to endure this agony, if not die from it, then at least scar from it.

 _Endure it,_ his mind hisses at him savagely _._

The way his family did. The way his uncle did, healing himself cell by cell. He knows the word for it, the fancy one, when someone is too traumatized to let themselves heal, _too guilty_ , and then they scar. He just can’t remember what it is right now. Though Stiles would know, he thinks. He’s going to ask Stiles if he wakes up. _When_ he wakes up.

He’s exhausted. So very, very exhausted.

The hiss of the respirator is a constant, endless sound that keeps reminding him where he is, if the smells of sickness or fear or death or disinfectant weren’t enough to clue him in. The oxygen feels good as he inhales it, though he can smell the iron of the tank in it. Regardless. It’s what’s keeping both him and Stiles breathing at the moment.

The windows in the hospital room are blacked out with two sets of curtains, and there is no clock on the walls, so Derek is a little out of the loop as to what time it is. Or even what _day_ it is. He only woke up briefly, when he was being loaded into an ambulance with Peter grasping onto his injured hands, his uncle’s face ashen pale. He hadn’t seen if Stiles was with him, but when he was aroused again some time later, Stiles had been wheeled right next to him in a private room.

In fact, Stiles looks a lot better than Derek does. He’s breathing, though wearily, the smoke having wreaked havoc in his system, but he’s almost uninjured, save some scrapes and perhaps some bone fractures.

Derek on the other hand. . . 

He sighs, though that grates at his throat. His chest burns with it. John looks tiredly up at this, giving him a weak smile.

‘’You awake, son?’’ the sheriff asks quietly, putting down the newspaper he was doing crosswords from.

Derek blinks at the man, giving the barest of nods.

John gives an explosive sigh of relief. ‘’Thank god,’’ he mumbles, clutching at Derek’s hand. ‘’You - Son, you almost - ‘’

Not finishing his sentence, John gets up from his seat and gently gathers Derek into his arms. He’s hugging him very delicately, almost cradling him. Derek goes stiff with shock, letting the sheriff embrace him.

He’s - He’s been hugged by John before. He can count those times on one hand, and they’ve always happened in the aftermath of _Stiles_ getting hurt. Mostly, if there’s something dangerous going on and Derek’s injured, he tends to shut himself into the loft alone to heal, so as not to bother anyone else. If Stiles hasn’t been in the thick of things and is uninjured, he often marches in and patches Derek up for awhile. If Stiles has been rendered unavailable, it’s Boyd who comes by to check on him. Or sometimes even Peter.

But never the sheriff.

And it’s not that he thinks John doesn’t care. Obviously he does. Derek’s just thought that it’s a, sort of. . . Proximity thing. If Stiles is hurt and Derek is nearby, he’ll offer his concern to him, because that’s his _duty_. Caring for the citizens. The four times John’s hugged him, have been when Stiles has been in surgery and John needed some comfort and support. And usually Derek’s there, to stand watch by Stiles’ sickbed, so by Derek’s logic, it’s probably just a  proximity thing for the sheriff. He doesn’t seem affectionate towards anyone else, after all. Except perhaps Scott. 

But this?

This is new. Derek didn’t think the sheriff cared for him. As a _person_ . Not just because he’s pack, because he’s a friend of Stiles’. There’s some history between the two of them, and not all good, especially since John lead the interrogation of Derek’s when Laura was murdered. And for his grieving past self, the whole thing was too brutal, too raw to be tormented with. It made him feel angry and _helpless_ , and he _hated_ the sheriff for it for awhile.

John’s hands come to gently squeeze his cheeks, forcing Derek to look him into his eyes. ‘’Don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me?’’ the sheriff demands, shaking Derek’s head gently. ‘’I do _not_ need to lose another member of my family. I _refuse_ it. You understand me, son?’’

A sudden lump in his throat makes his words get stuck, so he just nods. 

‘’Good,’’ John says fiercely. ‘’I’m tired of watching you two get hurt all the time. That was the most reckless, most _irresponsible_ stunt you did back there. You could have _died_ . Hell, you both almost _did_.’’

‘’John,’’ Peter says quietly, appearing behind the human. ‘’Take a deep breath. While deserved, now is not the time for this. Later, perhaps, when Derek is well again. But not now.’’

John huffs angrily, taking a step back and wipes quickly at his eyes. ‘’Fine,’’ he says thickly. ‘’But I’ll be having words with you, young man. You hear me?’’

‘’I hear you,’’ Derek manages to croak. His own eyes are wet too. Even Peter is somber, his mouth a thin line.

Peter lets John go past him, settling down onto the chair the sheriff vacated. He mimics John’s position from moments ago and takes Derek’s hand in his. ‘’Are you quite alright, nephew?’’

Blinking the tears away, Derek nods. ‘’Hurts,’’ he mumbles.

Giving him a sympathetic look, his uncle starts taking away some of his pain. His face immediately pulls into a grimace, but he waves Derek’s concern away when he moves to shake his uncle off. ‘’I can’t help you to heal until we’ve gotten enough of the many a mountain ash used in the attack. The strains were too rare for me to be in possession of any it, but Friederike assured me that they’d be able to acquire some of it within the next twenty four hours. You’ve slept eighteen of those, so you’ll be out of this misery soon enough.’’

‘’Stiles?’’ Derek asks, looking over at the sleeping human. 

Peter hums in reassurance. ‘’He’s fine. Smoke inhalation, mostly. A fractured collarbone. His own magic protected him, so he’s better off than you. Once we get him to wake up and eat, he’ll be able to heal himself properly.’’

Slowly rotating his hand, Derek manages to capture Peter’s hand into his. ‘’You?’’

Clearly surprised at the move, Peter quirks his brows up. But he does squeeze back, albeit taking care to not aggravate his injuries too much. ‘’I didn’t get near the fire,’’ Peter says darkly. ‘’I took care of the scenery beyond it.’’

Still, Derek worries for his mental health. Being near such large house fire cannot have been at all comfortable knowing his extensive trauma of it. Usually even candles are good enough to get Peter to get the hell outta dodge. His brain and his body remembers the pain and suffering he did for six whole years. Actually, Derek’s surprised Peter can be anywhere near _him_ right now, with the smell of cooked flesh and ash.

Peter’s dark expression softens just a little. ‘’I’m fine, nephew mine. I’d rather just get you out of this hospital and into my den, so we can get rid of the awful scents still clinging to you.’’

Humming in response, Derek closes his eyes for a moment. Being awake while his whole body is just a big lump of throbbing pain is rather exhausting.  ‘’What happened with the hunters?’’

After what seems to be a brief, wordless debate with the sheriff, Peter says evasively, ‘’I took care of them. They’re no longer trouble to anyone.’’

‘’Okay,’’ Derek sighs, relaxing further into the mattress. A dreadful thought occurs to him. He opens his eyes and looks towards his uncle. ‘’Did. . . Did anyone else survive?’’

John fields the question, shaking his head gravely where he sits beside Stiles’ bed. ‘’It’s still an open investigation. The firemen are still fighting the fire, trying to prevent it from spreading anywhere else, so so far there are no confirmed deaths yet. But son. . .’’ He sighs sadly, his tone gentle, ‘’The entire complex crumbled down not ten minutes after you and Stiles presumably jumped off the window. If anyone _did_ manage to get out before that, no-one has reported themselves to the ER or to the police. There are a number of firemen out there securing the area, but I cannot safely say anyone has come across civilians after the barricading of the street. It’s not an impossibility that someone might have escaped, but it’s very, very unlikely I’m afraid. I’m sorry.’’

Derek nods numbly. The fire spread unnaturally fast, so they hunters must’ve used some sort of accelerant to ensure maximum heat. He’d held hope that at least the residents in the lower floors had managed to wriggle themselves out before the smoke got to them, but when he’d heard the gunshots. . . It seems that all possible human deaths were just a necessary evil when the goal had been to kill off Derek. 

Before the guilt can catch a grip of him, Stiles starts whining from the other bed, making all ears in the room focus on the human. 

‘’Dad?’’ Stiles mumbles, blearily looking around.

‘’Right here, son,’’ John says, reaching to caress his cheek. ‘’How are you feeling?’’

‘’Like I jumped down a burning building and shot a  couple motherfuckers in the face.’’ He pauses, squinting at his father. ‘’I did catch some of them, right?’’

‘’That, I can’t confirm,’’ John shakes his head. He offers his son a glass of water. ‘’Nor do I want to hear more of it. I’m still the sheriff, in case you forgot.’’

Stiles grins, a weak little thing, but still. ‘’Don’t worry pops. That fact is not something I’m likely to forget, _ever_.’’

Getting himself to upright position, Stiles takes stock of himself, and then lets his gaze wander to Derek’s bed. Noticing he’s awake, he gives a wave with his uninjured side. ‘’Hey, big guy. You holding up alright?’’

‘’Been better,’’ Derek rasps, but amends, ‘’Been worse too.’’

‘’Yeah, no kidding,’’ Stiles frowns. ‘’Why aren’t you healing?’’

Sweeping his hand over Derek’s forehead to push away the clinging strands of hair, Peter fields the question with ease. Derek can’t help but to relax under the gentle ministrations. ‘’The wolfsbane used to accelerate growth of the fire had multiple strains of mountain ash. Our guests are rallying their sources to gain as many of them as they can, but unfortunately in the meantime, it means Derek is unable to heal anything.’’

Mouth agape, Stiles stares at them in shock. ‘’Is Derek going to _die_ ?’’ he asks hysterically. ‘’Did we jump out of that building for _nothing_?’’

‘’Derek is not going to die,’’ John says firmly. ‘’In no time at all, Miss Friederike and her company will arrive with the cure. We just need to be patient until then.’’

 _‘’Patient_ ?’’ Stiles asks, incredulous. ‘’You want me to sit idle while Derek is right there, writhing in horrible agony and not do anything about it?  I don’t _think_ so.’’

‘’Well, there’s hardly anything else you _can_ do, apart from taking his pain, which you are unable to do,’’ Peter bites out, his anger flaring up fast. ‘’The coven is already on it, so unless you have a pocket dimension where you’re keeping rare strains of mountain ash in hand, I’d suggest you - ‘’

‘’Peter,’’ Derek croaks, gently prying his uncle’s hand into his. ‘’Peace,’’ he asks.

Peter rounds on him, something feral and furious flaring in his eyes, before he makes an ugly facial expression. He clamps his mouth shut and refuses to look at anyone.

A little awkwardly, John tries to placate the  mulish expression on Stiles’ face. ‘’Come on now. There’s no need to fight about this. Peter has done everything in his power to get Derek the things he needs in order to heal him. I know you’d want him to get better right this second - ‘’

The door slams open with Friederike and a couple of her family trailing after her. ‘’We have acquired the ash,’’ she proclaims loudly, pushing the jar she holds in her hands into Peter’s awaiting ones. 

Derek grimaces. He looks down at his bangadged body with resignation. It’s a _lot_ of skin to purge the wolfsbane out of. 

‘’Well,’’ Peter says briskly, all business now, turning to look at Derek. ‘’I do hope these walls aren’t too thin. This is going to take some time.’’

Derek gurgles something in lieu of an answer and wishes he was _anywhere_ else.

  


~*~

  
  


Derek presses his face against the cool glass of the car window. He feels overheated and uncomfortable, his skin raw. He’s got cooling-pads under his thighs and resting against both of his sides, and one at the back of his neck. It’s helping him quell back the nausea, the world horribly dizzy.

Since both him and Stiles had been hospitalized, they had to wait until morning to be recharged. The doctor who Peter summoned 7 AM sharp was adamantly against releasing them, but relented, telling them they’re signing an agreement not to sue the hospital because they’re leaving against medical advisement.

John meditated between Peter and the poor doctor, soothing some ruffled feathers from both sides.

Embarrassingly enough, once they’d been wheeled outside in their hospital warranted wheelchairs, Peter had to carry Derek to the car since his legs couldn’t carry his weight. His bones have yet to have knitted properly back together. 

Stiles kept crooning and awwing at them both, making Derek’s humiliation ten times worse. His uncle was radiating smugness, though it was mostly covered with the smothering scent of concern. His hands had never been more gentle while he arranged Derek into the back seat. 

With the morning sun rising above the horizon, Derek tries squinting against the first rays of the sun, honing his focus on the conversation in the front, rather than his empty, growling stomach.

‘’We can’t just storm in there, Peter, be reasonable - ‘’

 _‘’Reasonable_ ?’’ Peter snarled, jerking in his seat. ‘’You want me to be _reasonable_ when that power-hungry, megalomaniac just tried to kill my pack?’’

‘’All I’m saying, is that while I believe your. . . Informants, of Deaton’s participation in this, we can’t just bust into someone’s workplace and accuse them of murder without any concerete proof. I need actual, _factual_ evidence. Get me that evidence and we can have this discussion again,’’ John says calmly. 

‘’He tried to murder _your son_!’’

‘’I am aware of that,’’ John grits his teeth. ‘’And I would like nothing more than to get up there and arrest the piece of shit, but I _can’t_. I am the sheriff of this goddamn county, and I am bound to my duty, no matter how hard it is. There’s a difference in delivering justice and murdering someone in cold blood. I’m sorry, but I’m going to need time to work this through. Through legal sources.’’

Something cracks dangerously. Derek clumsily pushes himself up and sneaks his hand to grab his uncle’s arm. His intentions are as much to soothe as to restrict him, in case he does something. . . Unforgiving.

Peter tenses under the touch, giving him a warning growl, before relaxing. He understands.

‘’And pray tell me, what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Once he realizes Derek didn’t just lay down and die, he’ll want to try again. And soon.’’

‘’Yeah, but why?’’ Stiles pipes up, making Derek startle a little. He hadn’t realized Stiles had been awake this entire time. His heartbeat had been calm and relaxed, so he thought the human had been asleep.

‘’Why what?’’ Peter glances over. Derek sees his eyes glowing, his canines sharp. He grimaces.

‘’Why is Deaton suddenly trying to kill us? He hasn’t tried it before, even when he’s had very good chances at butchering us and not be caught. Why _now_ , of all times?’’ Stiles asks.

‘’Why not?’’ John asks. ‘’You’ve confronted Scott, which resulted in a bad fallout between the two of you, and Scott has no doubt related all this information back to Deaton. His ruse is up. If he intends to keep Scott as an alpha, he’ll need to stop Derek from performing the ritual and getting his powers back.’’

Stiles frowns. ‘’But wouldn’t Derek’s death mean the alpha spark will die with him? Remember, Scott is only _borrowing_ the spark. The, the, fuck, the core of it or whatever is still inside Derek. It’s his, um, inherent magic I guess? Linked to his soul.’’

‘’Perhaps,’’ Peter says, slowly calming down, ‘’Deaton is aware of something we are not. He must have a back-up plan for a situation like this. Derek’s life is in constant danger, has always been, so his sudden death in any case, wouldn’t come as too big of a surprise. It’s the life of a wolf, after all.’’

John sighs, ticking the blinker to the left. ‘’He must have _some_ sort of motive.’’

‘’Maybe Scott hasn’t been ready to inherit the full alpha power, so Deaton had to keep Derek around for some time?’’ Stiles says.

‘’Sounds. . . Plausible. A little far-fetched maybe,’’ John shrugs. ‘’In any case, right now there are too many unpredictable variables in this. We need something solid, something that has stayed constant throughout all these years. A focal point that could help us figure out his reasoning.’’ 

The car falls into silence. Derek is too tired to think of anything as complex as Deaton’s scheming, and resumes his slouched position. Unfortunately, it means he’ll have to let Peter’s arm go, which was a nice source of comfort. Small as it was.

He doesn’t realize they’re driving up to John’s house, not until the car is already parking. 

‘’Why’re we here?’’ he mumbles, catching Stiles’ attention.

‘’Because it’s the safest place for us right now,’’ the younger Stilinski answers. He winks at Derek. ‘’And because this is the only place with a bathtub. We’re all filthy.’’

Shrugging, Derek concedes his point. He’s not really up for a bath, or a shower, but doesn’t want to argue. ‘’You can save me the last turn. I don’t need hot water.’’

They help him inside, though he manages to walk on his own. Since all of them are soot-covered and hungry, John starts to make pasta carbonara while Peter and Stiles take turns to shower, respectively. Derek claims a seat from the plush couch, intending to not move a muscle for the next foreseeable future. 

 

Finally, at 10 AM, they’ve all eaten and freshened up. Derek’s nodding off at the end of the couch, leaning on the pillows, while John has been making calls all morning. Peter too, has been on the phone regularly, though he frequently walks to the end of the Stilinski property to have his conversations out of prying ears.

It annoys Derek. He hates being out of the loop. Ever since Laura’s unfortunate foray back to Beacon Hills, Derek has developed an unhealthy obsession to fret over plans he has no part of. Scott’s continued rejection and secrecy only strengthened that, since it always ended up with Derek being on the receiving end of some form of torture or another.

‘’I think we should just go over and talk to Deaton,’’ Stiles says suddenly. He’s sitting at the armchair right across Derek, splayed obscenely all over. Derek jerks upright, looking at the human with wide eyes.

‘’I’m sorry, _what_?’’

‘’We should go talk to him,’’ Stiles insists, fiddling with his phone. He refuses to make eye contact. ‘’Hear his side of things. So far we have only been speculating about his motives, or heard some of his thoughts through Scott’s mouth, but we’ve yet to have spoken to the man himself.’’

‘’He literally tried to murder us, not even 30 hours ago. And you want to go over to his territory, his heavily guarded domain, to _talk_?’’ Derek asks incredulously. ‘’What makes you certain he won’t just kill us then and there?’’

Stiles shrugs. He looks up.  ‘’I can’t promise you that. I mean, I did visit Scott at Deaton’s office some time ago, and he didn’t do anything to me but point me to the right direction. It sounds unlikely that he’d risk damaging his reputation in town, and with it, his own life work. Also, he’s never wanted to dirty his own hands before, so I don’t think he’d kill us himself. I mean, sure, he could have any number of people waiting on hand and foot for him to say the word, but I don’t think he would, not at the clinic.’’ Looking straight into Derek’s eyes, Stiles grins, ‘’At least not, if _Scott’s_ there.’’

 _This is not gonna end well,_ Derek thinks, but, after mulling it over for a moment, can’t see faults in the logic. Well, perhaps one fault, which is that neither of them are in their healthiest fighting stances. ‘’Sure,’’ he says in agreement. ‘’We can pay him a visit.’’

  
  


‘’Oh, _absolutely not,_ ’’ John denies vehemently. ‘’Are you out of your goddamn mind? Why the hell would you think I would let you go anywhere near Deaton?’’

‘’Because it’s the most reasonable way out of this,’’ Stiles argues. ‘’We need to hear his angle, why he’s keeping Scott as an alpha, and not just go and get any other alpha in the area. Or out of the area! And if Scott’s at the clinic, Deaton will need to keep up the ruse of a gentle, guiding father figure. He won’t be able to attack.’’

‘’And when Scott’s not there? What then?’’ John presses.

‘’We get the hell outta dodge. We can’t just - Just keep _waiting_ \- ‘’

Anger flaring, John slams his fist against the table. Derek flinches back. ‘’We’re not _waiting_ for anything. My men are actively investigating, _Peter_ is actively investigating. The coven is keeping up perimeter checks to ensure the safety of both our citizen, as well as us. This is a matter of your wellbeing. I’m not risking _anything_ to lose you. Especially not for impulsively made, hairbrained forays into enemy territory, with no plan, no backup, no nothing. You’re staying here, in this godforsaken house, healing yourself up while I’m going _to do my job_ , and you’re not included in any part of it. End of discussion.’’

‘’But dad - ‘’

‘’No buts!’’ John shouts. ‘’You are my child and I will not lose you, do you understand me?’’ When there’s no answer, John slams his fist again. _‘’Do you understand me?’’_

‘’I understand,’’ Stiles responds quietly, tears pricking at his eyes.

Rubbing his hands over his face, John lets out an aggrieved sigh. He kneels in front of the armchair, gently grabbing at Stiles’ arms. His voice is calm when he says, ‘’I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. You just - You’re the most infuriatingly smart kid I know, and yet sometimes I don’t think you see how little you think of your own safety. Or happiness. I know - I understand that you want Derek to be safe. I want that too. Absolutely. But we cannot jump into this with no knowledge on how to proceed safely. If - If we don’t do this right, we might all lose our lives. We _have_ to be careful with this, Stiles.’’

Appeased, Stiles nods. ‘’I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so _frustrated_ . He got so close to hurting us, dad. And if Derek hadn’t woken up when he did, we might have. . . We really could have _died_.’’

‘’We just need to stick to the original plan, dear,’’ Peter says. He’s been suspiciously quiet the entire conversation so far.

‘’I guess,’’ Stiles relents, sniffing a little. ‘’Not that _that’s_ gonna be easy, either. When Scott has decided something, he usually sticks with it, come hell or high water.’’

‘’But he does listen to his mother. Even _you_ listen to Melissa when she has something to say, even if it doesn’t make you very happy about it.’’

‘’Well you would too, if you were familiar with the kind of wrath she holds onto,’’ Stiles mutters sullenly. ‘’She forgives, but she _never_ forgets.’’ 

 _‘’That_ rings true,’’ John nods with a smile. He gives Stiles one last affectionate ruffle of his hair before standing up. ‘’She’s one hell of a woman.’’

Pingballing between the three men, Derek cringes a little. He hasn’t spoken to Melissa before, but with the amount of glaring she has done in his way, he thinks he doesn’t want to. Not if Scott’s stories of him are the only ones she’s ever heard. ‘’I don’t think I should, uh, join you. I don’t think she likes me very much,’’ Derek says awkwardly.

‘’Nonsense,’’ Peter says. ‘’I can’t very well leave you alone here, so we’re all going. This is non-negotiable.’’

‘’Who do you think is the alpha here?’’ Derek mutters grumpily. Peter smirks and walks over, pushing Derek’s hair out of his forehead. 

‘’You are, of course, dear heart. But _I_ am your left hand and your uncle, so keep your cute little mouth shut and be good.’’

Derek faintly hears Stiles groan, ‘’No, put the creepy Peter back, dude,’’ before all sounds fade from his ears, something cold and heavy dropping low in his stomach.

 

_‘’Be good now, sweetheart and keep quiet,’’ Kate coos at him while she drags him away from the car wreckage. Her handymen are following them obediently, keeping Derek subdued with frequent doses of electricity. He tries to resist, because he knows, he knows what will become of him once Kate manages to shackle him to the fence._

_The smell of rot and ash is still heavy in the tunnels, the ground slippery with mud. The wounds in his torso are weeping, his cracked ankles screaming in agony as Kate rips him forward from his hair. ‘’Filthy little beast with such a cute face. It’s such a shame you had to be a monster in this gorgeous body of yours. I could have made you a real man otherwise,’’ she smirks, licking at the side of his mouth._

_The shackles are heavy on his wrists, and his neck, strangling his throat as the goons string him up. Kate laughs, forcing a kiss to his mouth -_

 

Wrenching himself backwards out of Peter’s reach, Derek pants heavily as he accidentally tips the couch over. Stiles yelps and leaps impotently forward, uselessly trying to stop the fall.  Peter has a similar reaction, his fast reflexes catching the legs of the sofa. He looks down at Derek where Derek lay on his back on the floor, brows furrowed in a frown. Derek stares back with wide, unseeing eyes.

‘’Where did you go?’’ Peter asks quietly, and Derek  - 

There’s a moment when he hears nothing but the mocking laugh of Kate’s, the shrilly, high-pitched giggle that plagues his nightmares. Peter’s face momentarily wears hers, the sharp smirk of her mouth, the dangerous glint in her eyes staring back at him. Blanching as white as a sheet, he heaves heavily as he desperately looks away, drowning the godawful sound. His still knitting bones protest as he gets up to his knees and retches. The bile comes up so fast he has no choice but to crane his neck to the side and throw it up.

Stiles crawls over, hovering, but not touching. His breathing is a thready, quiet thing. Panicky. Like Derek.

‘’Okay. From now on, that sentence, all of what you just said is banned. Done. Finished. Nobody will utter those words never, ever ever again,’’ Stiles swallows, looking over at the two older men.

John nods, his expression confused. There’s nothing but sympathy there. When Derek looks, Peter is back to his own, gruffy self with no trace of blond locks and wicked eyes. His uncle has gone stock still, face blank.

Derek can see the moment things lock in place for him, because the man goes white with rage. ‘’Her?’’ he snarls, deceptively quiet.

Peter gets his answer when Derek’s heart rate picks up. His uncle steps away, righting the couch before he does so and excuses himself to the backyard. John takes one pointed look at Stiles before he follows the werewolf.

Derek feels guilty as he watches his uncle leave, and then gags, shaking. Absently he wonders if he’ll ever be rid of Kate. 

He might never be, is the thing. And that’s a rather hopeless thought to entertain.

‘’Can I. . . Can I touch you?’’ Stiles asks timidly, inching closer. 

Derek doesn’t know. Can Stiles? Touch is something he’s still relearning. The aversion of touch has made him fear it and crave it in same measure. His uncle is safe, his scent a comfort, and Stiles has the same effect on his senses. His hands are very different from Kate’s. Warm, while hers were always cold. Strong, with long fingers and wide palms. Capable of holding him up.

 _And holding you down too_ , his mind cruelly supplies. He shakes his head no.

‘’Okay. Alright. Is uh, is there anything I can do for you?’’ the human asks. ‘’Anything at all. Water? A blanket? Space? You need space, don’t you. I can leave, I can, to the other room, yeah? Kitchen? Is it too close? I can go with my dad or - ‘’

With Derek’s vehement head shake, Stiles quiets down. Lets Derek gather his thoughts.

Wiping his mouth, Derek manages to lean away from the bile and scoot back far enough so his back is against the wall. Stiles stays put for awhile, assessing the situation, before going to the kitchen to gather a mop and water. He cleans the vomit with ease, sending worried looks over to Derek. Once he’s done, he comes back and sits next to the werewolf, leaving enough space between. 

‘’I’m okay,’’ Derek says eventually. This is not how he imagined the day to go.

‘’Sure,’’ Stiles concedes easily. With how frequent his panic attacks used to be, sometimes it’s better to just agree someone is fine, even if they’re not.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Whatever for?’’ Stiles asks, confused. ‘’None of this is your fault.’’

‘’You’d be surprised how wrong you are,’’ Derek croaks. God, if he just. If he’d never given Kate the time of the day, none of this would have happened. Scott wouldn’t be a werewolf to begin with, because Peter would have been sane, because their family wouldn’t have perished in a horrible fire, because Derek didn’t let his grief take over and let Kate use his body for her means.

Stiles is thinks for a moment before saying, ‘’You know I know right?’’

‘’. . .Yeah.’’

‘’Then you know when I say that none of what has happened to you is your fault, not Kate, not your family dying, none what happened with Scott - Not a single thing of the above is yours to carry blame for. You can hear it in the truth of my heartbeat. You know I’m not lying when I say it’s. Not. Your. Fault.’’

‘’I - ‘’ Derek falters, feeling the bile gather up again. ‘’I can’t talk about this right now.’’

‘’I respect that,’’ Stiles nods. He gives him the water bottle he carried from the  kitchen, unscrewing the cork. ‘’Sorry I pushed.’’

Derek snorts despite himself. ‘’It’s in your nature to push people into giving you what you want. I don’t hold it against you.’’

Stiles makes a face. ‘’That doesn’t paint me in a very good light. Is that how you see me? How everyone else sees me?’’

‘’It’s both in good and bad. You have a knack for goading people into doing your bidding. It’s not a bad trait necessarily. Depends on how you use it.’’

Making an odd little sound, Stiles lets his body slouch completely to the floor. ‘’I’ll take it,’’ he says. ‘’I belong with the Slytherin anyway, I can totally be morally ambiguous. I’m _allowed_.’’

‘’What is it with everyone being so obsessed with Harry Potter?’’ Derek asks a little snidely. 

‘’Dude, the series is my entire childhood. I wanted to be Gryffindor so badly that I bought all sorts of merch and games with the colours. And then when I got older and the sorting hat was brought online, I got saddled with _Slytherin_ . Do you know how _devastated_ I was?’’

‘’Can’t imagine,’’ Derek deadpans.

‘’I cried for weeks! I lied to _everyone_ that I got into Gryffindor like everyone else did, when the whole school buzzed about it. I only admitted that I may belong to another house after I entered high school and stopped giving two shits about what other people thought about me.’’

Cracking a small smile, Derek huffs. ‘’I’ve never even done the damn test. Laura’s tries were valiant, but ultimately fruitless.’’

‘’Well, you don’t need to. There’s not a clearer Hufflepuff in the whole wide world, dude.’’

‘’Thanks.’’ He pauses. ‘’I guess.’’

‘’No problemo. If it makes you feel any happier, my dad is the ultimate Gryffindor to ever gryffindor, and your uncle definitely belongs to the green team with me. Now, jumping from one topic to another, do you think we could start to get up soon? My butt is getting kinda sore.’’

Taking stock on himself, Derek realizes he feels a little better. A little shaky, still, but infinitely better than in the past ten minutes. Stiles’ sneaky little distraction seemed to work, if his beaming smile is anything to go by. ‘’Yeah,’’ he nods. 

‘’Cool. I’ll, uh, go get my dad and Peter. I don’t really understand why he got so upset he had to leave, but uh. You probably want to talk him down from his Hulkness or whatever,’’ Stiles says, boosting himself up. He offers his hand to Derek.

Taking it, Derek lets himself be pulled up. ‘’I’m fine,’’ he says again, this time looking over at the open door leading to the backyard where two familiar figures are standing. 

‘’I apologize,’’ Peter says briskly, walking over. Whatever John said to him must’ve somehow struck a chord, because his anger has simmered down. Generally his uncle also never apologizes for anything _ever_ , and this is his second one in two days. Derek struggles to understand what he did to deserve it. ‘’I wish for us to talk later. After we’re done dealing with this.’’

‘’Must we?’’ Derek asks quietly. There’s no resistance when his uncle pulls him to an embrace, his warm hand cradling the back of his neck.

‘’Yes,’’ Peter purses his lips. ‘’We must.’’

‘’I have a very good therapist I can recommend,’’ John says, taking Stiles under his arm. ‘’Both Stiles and I have visited him in the past, when I first got into this otherworldly stuff. And if you don’t click, he has a couple colleagues he can point you towards.’’

Derek makes a face. ‘’I’ll think about it,’’ he answers vaguely, which makes Stiles snort.

‘’He means he wants me to talk him into it,’’ Stiles says cheekily to his dad.

‘’Don’t get smart with us, kid,’’ his dad warns, gently tugging his son’s nose. ‘’I clearly remember a certain someone who took his sweet time in getting his feet dragged to his first appointment. And then you escaped through a window within the first five minutes.’’

‘’She smelled like moth balls and bad perfume. I couldn’t breathe,’’ Stiles grumps. 

‘’That was your second therapist. The first one was that young graduate student whom you took instant dislike to,’’ John reminds him.

Stiles shrugs. ‘’What can I say. Ten year old me didn’t trust such sparkly-eyed handsome men to truly feel the tragedy of what I was feeling.’’

Derek cracks a small laugh, quick and then gone, extracting himself from his uncle's arms. ‘’I’ll keep that in mind,’’ he says, opting to sit back down. His knees are reminding him of his tremulous predicament. 

‘’Well, on that note,’’ the sheriff huffs, fishing his phone out, ‘’I need to go back to the station and start my shift. Melissa says her hours today should end around six, though the ER is always very unpredictable. I promised to pop by at eight, to give her some time to freshen up beforehand. Until then, I strongly advice all of you to stay out of trouble. Derek, you can make camp in Stiles’ old bedroom. We need you well rested and able-bodied for later tonight, should anything go awry. You too, Stiles. No willy nilly, no going out on your own, pulling dumb little stunts and endangering your life. Your job is to make sure Derek and this house are secured should Deaton try anything else.’’

Stiles salutes his dad. ‘’Sir, yes sir.’’

‘’And what about me?’’ Peter asks with a lick of his lips, leaning against a doorframe. ‘’Any orders for me, good sheriff?’’

‘’Yes,’’ John smirks, pointing his finger at the older werewolf, ‘’Keep your ass out of the line of fire and make sure you’re in frequent contact with both your informants and the Gunilda clan. Should any problems arise, you call me, first thing. _All_ of you. Capisce?’’

‘’Aye aye, captain,’’ Stiles nods. He grabs Derek by the hand and leads him upstairs. ‘’Come on. We can watch Gentleman’s Jack while dad does his thing. I have snacks.’’

Derek follows him. ‘’Any licorice?’’

With a gasp, Stiles turns with his hands pressing against his chest, pretending to swoon. ‘’Now _there’s_ a man after my own heart.’’

 _If only that was true,_ Derek thinks a little sadly, giving Stiles a smile. ‘’Then I’m all yours.’’

  


~*~

 


End file.
